Timeless
by Azure Dragon of the North
Summary: What secret is Methos hiding from his wife?
1. md1

_**TIMELESS-CHAPTER ONE**_

The streets of Paris were empty at five minutes to midnight. The little café on the corner was no exception. A lone girl moved within.

Music played from the hidden sound system; the soft tune made the empty café more comfortable.

"The way you wear your hat  
The way you sip your tea  
The memory of all that  
No they can't take that away from me."

Darcy Grey swept under the last table; set the four chairs in their sleeping positions and grabbed a cloth. She had missed a spot earlier and wanted to get it now. As she leaned down to wipe the counter the door opened. Her heart sank at the thought of serving another customer. Everyone had been rude today; no matter what it was, it seemed Darcy was the target for everything bad. Now as the clock lingered a two minutes from midnight, she hoped this would the very last insult to her day.

As she lifted her head to speak; her breath caught as recognition flared in her soul, she knew this man. He was a stranger to her eyes but deep within she knew him.

He looked around the empty café and moved to go.

"We're still open," She called quickly, hoping that he knew English.

He paused and glanced at her.

Another spark of recognition. Those eyes! She knew them too.

He turned fully and faced her; his clothing was basic, jeans and a heavy sweater with a black turtleneck under that. He wore a long black coat and sensible shoes. There was nothing remarkable about him.

Until one looked into the eyes; they held eons of life and experience. His hair was dark and short, his skin was pale in a healthy way.

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking around again.

"Oh yeah, how can I help you?" She asked.

Her soul was screaming in recognition of him. But the rest of her was staring in wonder at the gorgeous planes of his face. The dark power in his eyes.

Darcy heard the song again,

"We may never, never meet again, on that bumpy road to love...But I'll always, always keep the memory of...The way you haunt my dreams  
No they can't take that away from me."

They struck an odd note within her, why would she hear those lyrics now? She blinked and found he was watching her intently. Something in his expression said he recognized her. Darcy looked away first and placed her hands on the cash register. He blinked and looked up to the selection board.

His voice resonated within her as he ordered a coffee. Darcy rang it in and proceeded to make the order. Her hands were shaking slightly, she handed over the coffee and he paid in cash.

Their fingers brushed and she felt a jolt run up her arm into her spine. It was like being shocked by a lightening bolt. Her eyes met his and there was no denying the recognition between them.

But Darcy felt a resistance from him; a fear that was holding him back. She stared into his gaze and saw the eons of time within him. Within her mind she saw the scene unfold.

**Rome under Nero, 61 B.C.**

The sun scorched sand; the sky was blue and clear, the caravan moved slowly because of exhaustion. They had traveled for weeks now and were no closer to their new home then yesterday. The men doubted their leader.

Daria watched the riders approach her father's litter. She glared at the face of the captain. He was a traitorous liar.

The man reined in his horse and leaned in to speak with her father. She sat up and strained to hear what was being said. But the caravan was too noisy.

"My lady," Her hand-maiden coaxed gently, "Don't lean too far, you may fall."

Daria waved her off and still kept trying to listen. She peeked around the edge of the cloth enclosure. She saw the Captain ride away with his men.

Frowning at the dust cloud, Daria crouched for a moment and then sprang slightly. She balanced evenly on the support rails of her father's litter. The driver of the carrier looked up in surprise, but he knew better then to comment. She swept back her father's curtain and her breath caught.

"STOP!" She screamed and grabbed his unsheathed blade.

The caravan stopped and she looked around. The captain was still heading East, back to Rome.

"A horse!"

One of the men rode up and she jumped onto the horse. "Five of you, come!"

She spurred the horse into a gallop and chased after the men. At her back she heard the cries of women as the news was spread along the line. Her father was dead. Daria also heard the thunder of hooves as five men followed her.

Two weeks later she entered her home-city. Rome was bustling with people and activity. The shouts of the market, the songs of the theater and the roar of the Coliseum. It all was familiar and it did little to comfort her.

"My lady it is not wise to do this." One of the men said carefully.

"My father was murdered you fool! I will not rest until his murdered is dead." She kicked her horse forward and headed toward the Colseum.

"The Captain is..."

Daria spun on the men, her horse reared slightly. "The Captain has killed your Senator. If you find him and fail to kill him, I will kill you." She stared into each of them and they knew she meant it.

No one argued with her again.

Daria handed her horse over to stable hand and swept into the Coliseum. The crowd roared around her, cheering as another fight ended. Daria reached the peak of the stairs and spotted the Captain. He was seated next to her sister; drinking wine and laughing with Nero.

"My lady I really do...

"Leave me!" Daria marched her way through the crowd.

The guards around the Emperor's box recognized her and she wasn't stopped. Her sister looked up at her entrance and was startled.

"Daria, I thought you were with father, is he here?"

"No," Daria shifted her gaze to the Captain, "Might I have a word with you Captain?"

"Not now, Daria." Caesar waved a gilded hand, "We are celebrating our guest of honor." He indicated a tall slender man; he stood, his gaze held hers.

The crimson robes he wore were edged in gold; his hands carried golden and ruby rings. He wore the seal of a noble. The sandals on his feet were the finest money could buy. He stood with power and confidence. Any man who could stand that way around the Emperor was a man to watch.

Daria found herself unable to look away from him.

"Daria, why do you carry father's sword?" Her sister's voice trembled slightly.

Tearing her gaze off the stranger, she looked down at her left hand. She gripped her father's sword.

"He was killed, Lucilla." Daria stared at the Captain for a moment, his gaze showed the appropriate amount of shock.

"I will look into this," He said quickly and swept out of the box after bowing to Caesar.

Many days later, Daria found herself attending a party. Again it was in honor of the stranger, who's name she learned was Methos. He was a scholar and a trusted friend of the Emperor. Not much else was known.

Daria held her glass in one hand, watching the room with distant eyes. All the faces were familiar and boring. She had put up with the parade of people who had come to say they were sorry. But they weren't. Her father had been exiled from Rome for his opinions. He was too powerful to be assassinated in the city. That's why the Captain had killed him in the caravan, in the desert. There was no one around to strike back...or that's what he had thought.

Absently Daria brushed her free hand across the hidden blade. The dagger was tied to her hip and there was a slash in her dress that would allow her to reach it. The only problem was the Captain wasn't here. But the stranger and Nero were.

Nero waved her over. Daria pulled in a breath and made her way to him. She knelt on the cushion before the Emperor.

"Great One," She murmured.

"See what I mean Methos, beautiful shoulders."

Daria grit her teeth as she lifted her head. "You are very kind, Majesty."

The Emperor was called across the room by a group of Senators. He left and Methos stepped up to her. His pale, slender hand dropped down. He helped her stand.

Methos was watching her intensely, "Tell me Daria, do you carry your father's beliefs?"

She regarded him coolly. His dark eyes were older then his face. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, his shoulders moved gracefully. "I came to Rome to meet your father. I had many questions I wanted to ask him."

Daria never looked away from him. She stepped around to face him fully, "You know where my father's house is?"

He gave a slight nod.

"Be there at dawn." She said simply and left him.

Dawn broke across the city in crimson and orange fire. The great buildings of Rome flared in the fresh light. The streets were flooded by the burning yellow rays. The last of the night's dangers fled as market's slowly began to open.

Daria looked up from the desk; the glow of candles was replaced by sunlight. She heard the shuffle of unfamiliar steps followed by a knock on the door. At her nod, the guard opened the door.

Methos stepped in and bowed his head.

She nodded again and the guard left the room. The door closed behind them with a gentle thud.

"This is a magnificent house," Methos remarked as he crossed the black stone floor. His sandals made the softest sounds.

Daria looked up at him as he stood taller than she. She was over come with an odd sensation, to grab him and kiss him. To tear off his robes and kiss his body. She clenched a fist instead and sat down.

Methos looked down to the desk, "Your father's scrolls."

"I challenge you to read them. My father did not use the Latin here in the city." She watched as he read.

"He speaks of equality, of peace."

She arched a brow in surprise. "That he does. So you can read it."

Methos surprised her by speaking the language. "I have traveled extensively, my lady."

Daria watched him critically, answering him in the same tongue. "You are a scholar but you are also a warrior." He was surprised and she smiled gently. "I am a woman of Rome, Methos. I know a warrior when I see one."

He switched to Latin, "Why did you ask me here?"

Daria grinned at him, "A clever man; that will serve you will here."

"I am not staying in Rome. The man I came to see is dead; there is no need for me to stay."

Her smile faded and she stood swiftly. Her dress from the party swirled as she stepped around the desk. He didn't move and she brushed his body. He was solid muscle. Her hands ached to touch him, instead she pointed a finger at him.

"They tell me you are here as a friend to Caeasar."

Methos grinned and shocked her by grabbing her. His kiss was deep and hungry. The grip he used was strong but not threatening.

He pulled back a fraction; she pulled him back down.

**Present day, Paris.**

Darcy blinked as the taste of his mouth lingered on her lips. She pulled her hand back, rubbing it.

"Well have a good night." She said stiffly and had to hold the counter to keep standing.

He saluted with his coffee and left.

Somewhere in the street a clock chimed midnight.

She stared at his silloutte on the street until it vanished.

The door locked under her hands and she felt his name on her tongue.

"Methos," The speaking of his name sent tremors down her spine. "I remember you."

The clock chimed eleven as Methos walked with Mac and Joe. They were chatting like old friends do. Joe laughed several times as Mac related a humorous story. Methos listened half-heartedly; his mind was lost in other things. Like the memory of green eyes framed by black silken hair. The cream color skin and the sweet taste of her lips.

His body tingled at the thought of her; it still remembered her touch, her kiss. He had never forgotten her, not in all these centuries.

"Methos?"

He blinked and looked up, Mac was watching him with curiosity. "Yes?"

"You just muttered something, it sounded like another language."

Mehtos shrugged, "Old age, I guess."

Mac grinned at him, "Sure."

They neared a familiar corner; Methos paused as he recalled the café. He'd been here last night. Mac helped Joe cross the slick stones as they walked up to the business. Methos followed. Part of him longed to see if she was here. Another part of him wanted to run.

The café was nearly empty at the early hour; Mac chose a table near the door. Methos paused, looking carefully at the staff. She wasn't here. His emotions were mixed as he sat next to the Highlander.

A pretty blonde came over and asked for their order. As she left, Methos felt a shiver go up his back. He turned and felt his heart skip a beat. There she was!

Darcy paused as she entered work; she wasn't on today, but her pay was waiting. Lifting a hand to brush back her wet black hair, she smiled at her co-workers. Making her way over, she was keenly aware of the limp on her left side. The pain was still there after all these years.

"Hi, I didn't know you worked today."

"I don't, but I do get paid."

The girl smiled as she disappeared into the back. A moment later she came back with a sealed envelope. "How was it last night?"

"Dead, we had a handful of people after nine." Darcy nodded at the other two.

"Do you want iced coffee?"

"I'd love it, but its needs to be go to."

"Sure,"

Darcy rubbed her eyes absently, another sleepless night. Seeing Methos had made it impossible for her to rest. For some reason meeting him last night; had stirred other past memories, a large majority held him.

"Here you go, have a good day."

Darcy turned and someone waved at her across the room. She returned it and moved to go.

The sudden flood of customers made her have to detour. Unfortunately she didn't see the shopping bags until she was tripping over them. She saw the floor rushing up when strong hands grabbed her upper arms.

She was saved but her drink wasn't; she watched it spill down the beige front of a tall man. Looking up her breath caught in surprise.

"Hello," he said gently.

Darcy was speechless for an instant. Methos was staring at her from inches away; his hands held her and she felt weak kneed.

"Darcy?"

She jumped and looked at the concerned face of her co-workers. "I'm fine." She pulled away from Methos. "I just tripped."

"Are you sure?"

Darcy nodded, "Yes."

Methos was watching her, he still hadn't moved.

Darcy ran her fingers through her hair and looked down at his table. A large man was standing now, he looked back and forth between them. There was an older man he nodded to her. Darcy noticed the cane he had discreetly rested against the table.

"Well, thanks for saving me." She said lightly and moved to go. She caught the motion and felt his hand touch her arm.

He looked at his hand as if it were foreign to him. Reluctantly he released her and Darcy left the café.

Methos stared at his hand and turned quickly. He ran out the door and stepped into her path.  
"Tell me your name,"

Darcy was startled at the desperate tone. "What?"

"Please, tell me your name." His eyes were bright with energy as he stared at her. "Tell me your name."

"Darcy." She muttered and watched his face.

"Darcy..." He whispered it slowly, as if savoring it.

"And you're Methos."

He flinched slightly and stepped back, "How do you..."

"I remember you from Rome, and from Egypt. I was there when you rode with Alexander."

Methos watched her, "You remember that?"

"Perfectly," She looked up at him, "You haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you." His gaze slid down her body.

Darcy laughed softly, "I don't know about that. What should we do about this?"

Methos was amused at her relaxed attitude. "I want to talk to you. But not now," He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a little black book. Quickly he wrote something down and handed it to her.

Darcy took the slip of paper; the writing was in hieroglyphs. It took a moment but she finally understood them. "Seven it is."

Methos smiled gently, "I look forward to it." He stepped around her and headed back to the café.

Darcy turned and called after him, "You know how this will end up, right?"

Methos turned to her but kept walking, "Perfectly."

Darcy finally gave up on her hair; she went with leaving it in a braid. Her dress was a simple black number. It wasn't fancy or even remotely sexy in her opinion; but it was comfortable. She added a long black coat and left her apartment.

Methos paced the exterior of the restaurant. He kept smoothing a hand down his shirt front; he would look up and down the street, then pace again. As he rounded to start another routine, a taxi cab pulled to a stop. He reached for the door and opened it with hope.

He grinned at the woman who stepped out. She was radiant.

"Good evening Darcy,"

"Methos." She looked him over before accepting the arm he offered. "You look nice."

"Thank you."

Methos held the door aside, allowing her to enter first.

A table was open near the window. He took her jacket; his breath caught at the sight of her bare shoulders. The dress sat off the shoulder allowing a clear view of her back.

His memory was flooded suddenly; his skin burned with the sensory memory of her body.

Methos swallowed tightly, hanging up her coat on a near by stand. He left his own coat there as well. As he sat across from her, he was hit with another memory.

332 .B.C. (approx) Camp of Alexander the Great

Great bonfires roared against the chill of night; the stars flared in the deep blue sky above.

The camp was noisy with celebration at their latest victory over King Darius III. A great tent sat near the middle of the camp. Many shadows threw themselves against the material walls. The soldiers that were able sang and laughed at tables laden with food. Music was performed by slaves and there was some drunken dancing.

The great leader, Alexander sat in his chair. He was smiling and laughing at the displays. He leaned to his left and turned his head. The brilliance of his blue eyes was emphasized by the glow of firelight.

"Methos, my friend, you look upset." The king placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't tell me you are longing for that girl already."

Methos grinned at the king, "Majesty you know me well."

Alexander waved him off, "Go then, waste yourself."

Methos placed a light hand on the muscled arm, "Women are never a waste, my friend."

The King snorted, "So says you."

Methos didn't stay any longer. He left the tent.

The ground was warm after the scorching heat of the day. Methos crossed to his tent; swiping the cloth back he paused.

The girl was dressed in a simple dress, it was held in place by a decisive fold of cloth. She knelt at the edge of the furs that made a bed. Her head turned as if expecting him. The glistening black of her hair slid around her shoulders and back. In the reflective glow of the bonfires, her green eyes were otherworldly.

She stood at his entrance.

Methos let the drape slide back. He didn't speak as he touched her shoulders. Her skin was warm; his hands were hungry to feel more. The dress fell silently to the floor and she stepped into his arms. There was no fear between them. No hesitation.

Methos jolted awake at a scream. "Maya?"

He pulled the drape aside and saw the source of the scream. Maya was being yanked around by soldiers. She tried to fight but they hit her to the ground. Methos swept out of his tent.

The soldier was run through as he reached for the girl.

There was a moment of stunned surprise, two more men fell dead. Methos stepped in front of Maya, wielding his bloody sword. None of the men moved.

Methos felt the presence of Alexander as the King marched from his tent. Five men followed him, "What is this?!"

"I am sorry Alexander," Methos said gently, "They were going to kill her."

Alexander looked down at Maya, "She is..." He paused and turned to the men, "What have I told you?" His voice carried across the camp, "What have I said about my friend?"

One of Alexander's followers spoke up, "That we were not to interfere with his business."

"And does that not include his women?" Alexander spun on the man who had spoken. "See to it that the men who had a hand in this are punished." He waved a hand and the men cleared away slowly. The five men rounded up those that were clearly involved.

Alexander turned to Methos, "You know, my old friend, there was no need to kill them."

Methos lowered his sword, "I don't question you about your actions."

Alexander smiled suddenly, "That girl must be something if you will kill for her." He looked again at Maya, "What is your name?"

"Maya," She replied. Alexander arched a brow, casting a look to Methos.

"The youngest daughter of King Darius," Alexander laughed, "Methos, I hope to have your charm eventually."

Methos blinked the memory away and stared into the modern face of his lover. Darcy was studying the menu closely.

"You'd think I'd know French. I can read and write Hieroglyphs but put French before me and it's hopeless."

Methos smiled gently, "You haven't changed."

Darcy looked up at him, "I think you said that once already. You looked distant a moment ago, where were you?"

"Alexander's camp, just after Issus."

"The night he met me for the first time," Darcy nodded slowly, "I remember. He was a very good looking man."

Methos shrugged, "He had his moments."

Darcy laughed, "Is it true that he's like you...Immortal?"

Methos looked into her eyes, "You think I'll tell you?"

She shrugged; it was a motion that looked like his. "I was hoping you would."

Thankfully the server appeared at their table; when he left Darcy was already on a different topic of conversation.

"It's really strange that I would meet you in Paris." She muttered. "I mean I came to Paris to get away from men."

Methos sipped his wine as she spoke. "What made you leave?"

Darcy sighed, "Aside from getting shot by my ex-boyfriend? Not much. I just needed to get away from the pressure of my life."

Methos was surprised at the reaction inside of him when she mentioned getting shot. It was a feeling he'd thought long gone. It was the urge to protect her.

"How long have you been here?" He asked lightly.

"Almost two years." Darcy looked across the restaurant. Her eyes lit up suddenly, "Do you play the ivories?"

Methos looked across and saw the vacant piano. "Can you sing?"

"Yes. That's what I used to do." She stood and crossed the floor. She spoke quickly with the manager and he nodded.

Methos sat at the piano. For a moment he stared at the smooth white keys. He looked up at her and again his breath caught. She turned and smiled at him.

"What will it be?" He asked.  
"They can't that away from me, by ol' blue-eyes."

Methos played the opening chords to the famous Frank Sinatra song. He looked up as Darcy's voice filled the restaurant. The patrons turned to the music and listened attentively.

She could still sing. Her voice carried perfectly and she filled the floor with her presence. Methos remembered seeing her in a night club in the 1920's. They hadn't met that time, but he'd seen her. It was hard not to. She had a glow to her when performing. It was as if the light of the stage came straight from her. Not to mention having a sultry, sexy voice that could make men fall to the floor crying.

Tonight was no different. She held power when singing, her words became real emotion, the song lived through her.

Methos finished the last chord and the restaurant erupted into applause. Shouts for more came and they obliged.

Because of their performance, their meal was free and they were invited back anytime.

Methos held her arm as they left; the night had given way to early dawn. The air was chilled and they walked quickly. Without thinking it, Methos went to his apartment. It wasn't until they were standing in his living room, that he realized the surroundings.

Darcy was looking around at the furnishings with polite interest. Methos watched her. She still moved like the nobility she had been in many of her lives. The limp on her left side added a touch of realism to the whole thing.

Darcy turned as his presence, her breath caught at his touch across her shoulders. It was so familiar, so welcome. Her hands went to his shoulders and the kiss was deep. Darcy felt her soul blossom with love, light and joy. The touch of his hands on her back intensified the waves within her.

Methos pulled back slightly. He stared into blazing green eyes, eyes that he had seen for thousands of years. They had remained loving and passionate towards him, which was still true. He kissed her again; it wasn't just a kiss, it was pure passion.

Methos was yanked from sleep by the feeling of an Immortal nearby. He lifted his head and looked down at Darcy. She was deeply asleep in the circle of his arms. A sudden knock came followed by shouting, it was Amanda.

Darcy stirred, "Wh..."

"Shhh, it's a friend."

Methos crawled out of bed and shrugged on a nearby robe. Grabbing his sword on the way. He was tying the sash as he opened the door. Amanda stood there; dressed in her usual fine attire, only she looked worried. Not the most usual expression for her.

"What?" He demanded, not letting her in.

"What is with you?" She snapped. Her eyes slid up and then down, she peeked slightly around him. She couldn't see anything. "Have you got company?"

"Amanda, it's early, what do you want?" His tone was short.

"Oh fine, Joe was kidnapped late last night. Duncan is beside himself. We need to help him find the guy."

Methos sighed, "Where can I meet you?"

Amanda crossed her arms, "There is someone here. You've never been so anxious to help me before."

"Good bye," Methos moved to close the door.

"Alright, alright!" Amanda said quickly, "Meet me at Duncan's."

Methos shut the door and headed back to bed. Darcy was still asleep, he crawled in beside her laying the sword on the floor. She cuddled up to his warmth and he held her.

"Who was it?" She murmured.

"A friend, I'll have to go out later."

"Hmmm, I have to work at three."

Methos kissed her neck, she giggled, "I'll walk you."

"I'm sure you will." She laughed sleepily as he kissed lower.

As they neared work Methos paused, he stared at her. "Darcy, we've known each other for almost three thousand years."

Darcy nodded, "On and off."

Methos felt the words spill out quickly, "What happened to you?"

Darcy dropped her eyes, "Why?"

"Because I have no memory of why we ended, but I know we did." Methos cupped her face and lifted her chin. "Tell me what happened."

She drew in a deep breath, "I'm always killed by a rival."

Methos drew in a sharp breath, he hadn't been expecting that. "Darcy, are you willing to give this a shot?"

"Give what a shot? You and me?"

He nodded. "For some reason we are always meeting one another. We've been lovers for thousands of years. I've always loved you and I still do."  
She stared at him, her green eyes bright with unshed tears. "What?"

"I love you." He said quietly, "That's not something I tell every girl."

She laughed gently as tears spilled down her cheeks. "And?"

"Stay with me. Let's see where this thing can go. This is the twenty-first century, things could be different now."

"Besides, I've already been shot." She mused as her tears dried. "Are you sure about this?"

"I wouldn't be asking it I wasn't."  
She nodded, "True," For a moment she studied the ground, than looked up at him. "Alright, we can try."

END OF CHAPTER ONE


	2. md2

_**TIMELESS- CHAPTER TWO**_

I didn't hear you leave, I wonder how am I still here,  
I don't want to move a thing, it might change my memory  
Oh I am what I am, I'll do what I want, but I can't hide  
I won't go, I won't sleep, I can't breathe, until you're resting here with me  
I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be, until you're resting here with me  
I don't want to call my friends, they might wake me from this dream  
And I can't leave this bed, risk forgetting all that's been  
Oh I am what I am, I'll do what I want but I can't hide  
I won't go, I won't sleep, I can't breathe until you're resting here with me  
I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be, until you're resting here with me.—Dido, Here with Me.

SIX MONTHS LATER

Darcy woke to an empty bed; she rolled over, finding the expected note. Methos had written to her in Latin. She laughed gently and kissed the note to her lips.

It was noon by the time Darcy left his place. She wasn't working today but that didn't mean much. Ever since her performance at the restaurant six months ago, she'd been asked to return several times. The manager had even offered a job. This week was her deadline for giving her answer. She was sorely tempted to say yes.

As a child she had loved to sing; she'd always been good at it, even gone to Juilliard to study. Upon graduation she'd landed roles on Broadway and fame had been knocking. Then along came Toby King and all that had vanished.

He'd taken her career, her future and nearly her life.

Now, in Paris, almost three years later, she still carried the pain of him with her.

Darcy stopped in the street and pulled in a deep breath. She would take that job. Toby King wasn't going to haunt her anymore. She had a real man now, a real life, she deserved to have a glimmer of her career.

Stopping at a pay phone, Darcy called the restaurant and spoke to the manger. He was thrilled to have her answer. He asked for her to be at rehearsal on Friday, which was tomorrow.

She hung up happy and excited, she was singing for a living again. It made her want to dance. Instead she hurried to meet Methos. He'd asked her to meet him for lunch at one.

Methos was enjoying his second cup of coffee. The outdoors where cool but inviting. He saw her coming and warmth flooded his ancient heart. He stood and held an arm to guide her. She grinned at him and his love threatened to burst his heart.

Taking her into his arms, Methos kissed the woman he loved. She was happy to accept and return it, her arms tight around his back.

"Guess what?" She asked, still in his arms.

"Tell me,"

"Monsieur Lewis, offered me a job singing at his restaurant. I called him just now and accepted. I'm going to be singing again, Methos. Me! Singing!" Her green eyes glowed with joy.

"I'm happy for you." He waved to a seat and she took it. "I have something to ask of you."

"Name it."  
A waiter arrived and handed them menus. Darcy looked over the selection, Methos did not.

"Joe is still missing."

"Hmm, you've mentioned it a few times."

"We know he's not dead, they sent another Proof of Life this morning. But we're running out of places to look."

Darcy glanced up, "And?"

"I need your help."

The menu was forgotten, "How?"

Methos looked down at his hands, "Well first of all, I need you to agree to something."

"Anything."

He sighed, "Marry me."

Darcy's jaw dropped open, she shook herself and sat back, "Say that again?"

He took her hands in his, running his thumbs across her palms. "For six months there has been no danger to us. But I fear that will change. Call it a hunch, call it whatever you want. But I am afraid that something is coming."

Darcy stared into his eyes, he was serious. "We've never married before."

"I know. Perhaps that will break the jinx or whatever it is." Methos never looked away from her. "I need to know you'll be here for me."

"You..." She stopped and looked at his hands, "Alright, yes."

He gently squeezed her hands before reaching into his coat pocket. He drew out a small blue velvet bag. Pressing the material into her palm he sat back.

Darcy pulled open the top of it and spilled the contents into her hand. The ring was gold, the inside of it was engraved. She murmured the words and looked up at him with tears.

"It describes us."

She read the words again, "Not even time."

Darcy studied the rest of the ring. The band held three stones, a black one, a red one and a diamond. She stared at the combination. "You remembered."

"Yes." Methos slid the ring onto her left finger and kissed her hands.

The three stones represented the three millennia they had been together. The black one was for the start, when times were dark and dangerous. The red was for Rome and their passion and the diamond was for now. It was their stone of hope and purity, a symbol of eternal love.

Darcy looked even closer, "Methos, these are all diamonds." She's thought the black was onyx. But it wasn't, the black stone was a black diamond, so was the red. The end stone was a white diamond that glittered with rainbows.

She stared at him. "How did you find these first two?"

"Remember Amanda?" She nodded, "I asked her to find them for me. She's very good at that."

Darcy looked up at him and wasn't sure how he had found them. But left it alone, she was used to odd behavior from him.

"So have you told her about us?" Darcy asked gently.

"No, no one knows about us. I didn't want to tell them until I knew you would mine for good."

She chuckled, "I never thought you for the jealous type."

"It's not jealousy. I've lost you so many times, I won't loose you again."

"You won't," She kissed him on the mouth and sat back. "Are we going to tell them?"

"I haven't decided yet." Methos paused as their order arrived.

"How can I help you find Joe?"

Methos drew out a folder from inside his coat. "Take a look."

Darcy nibbled at her fries as she read over the information. "Sounds like Joe is a wanted man."

"He's a Watcher, not the most popular one at that. We originally thought that the Watchers had taken him. But so far that's turned up negative."

"It could be another Immortal."

"But for six months?" Methos shook his head, "It doesn't seem right."

"Could it be a random kidnapping?" She asked, putting aside the folder and continuing lunch. Methos looked serious, "Perhaps, Joe owed somebody money?"

"No. He was visiting us here."

"Is there any way I can talk to Mac and Amanda?"

Methos shifted his gaze to her, "Why?"

"Well Mac has known him longer then you have. Perhaps he knows something. And well, Amanda...never you know where the leads come from."

"You sound like a cop."

"Nope, I was PI in the forties."

Methos frowned, "I don't remember that."

"I never met you than."

"You were in the United States?"

"Yes." Darcy finished her water. "Where were you?"

"In the nineteen forties...." Methos' expression changed suddenly. He sat up and looked around.

"What? Is someone coming?"

"Yes." Methos caught sight of the person over her head, he relaxed. She turned. "It's Mac."

Indeed it was. The large man was striding toward them with a set look on his face.

Methos nodded at him as Mac stopped beside their table, he nodded curtly to Darcy before focusing on Methos.

"We need to talk,"

"She knows about Joe," Methos said coolly.

"They called again, they want to meet, tonight." Mac sounded angry.

"You want me to be there?" Methos asked.

"Yes," Mac never broke eye contact, "Well?"

"Well what?" Methos asked, "I said I would help get him back and I will."

"So you'll come?"

Methos nodded silently. Mac accepted that and left, he nodded once to Darcy as he went.

She studied Methos for a minute, "That was icy."

"Mac and I have our differences sometimes."

"I can see why,"

He looked at her sharply, "Meaning what?"

"He reminds me of a big boy scout; granted he's four hundred years old. But still, a boy scout. You aren't close to being a boy scout."

"Hmmm,"

Methos and Darcy spent the rest of the afternoon in the apartment. 

After a few hours of passion; they shifted their focus to more important matters. The combined force of concentration was tangible in the air. Finally, Methos reached across the board and moved his knight.

Darcy considered for a moment then countered.

The game continued at a painfully slow speed. It was a relief when the telephone rang.

Darcy jumped and looked around, "When did you get a phone?"

"Last week, Mac's the only with the number." Methos stood and crossed to the kitchen. A moment later his voice carried softly.

Darcy didn't bother to listen; instead she got dressed in a jeans the first shirt she saw. It was only as she pulled it over her head, that she realized it was his sweater.

"Oh well," She muttered and reclaimed her seat on the couch. Her ring caught the light and she watched the stones sparkle.

It was real. This was real.

She drew in a breath; the conversation at lunch had hit a cord with her. For weeks now she'd been haunted by a bad feeling; a premonition of danger. When Methos had mentioned it, she'd been surprised. He'd never said a word before. Why now?

Darcy flexed her hand, the ring sparkled again. He'd never asked her to marry him either; perhaps he was right, the jinx might not happen this time.

Somehow she didn't really believe that, she was still haunted.

"I have to go." He called.

She looked up from the couch; a sudden clamp of fear squeezed her heart. "Methos!" She hurried to him and threw her arms around his neck. "I love you. I'm glad you asked me."

He held her tightly, "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just wanted to tell you that's all."

Gently he kissed her, stepping back he shrugged on his coat. "I'll be home late. Don't wait up."

"Wake me when you come in."

He laughed, his hand smoothed across her cheek. "Count on it."

Methos was bent over the desk; the maps were beginning to blur in front of his eyes. He sank into the near by arm chair and rubbed his face. 

"It's useless," he confessed, "We are getting no where."

Duncan looked up from his own studies and frowned. "But that doesn't make sense. They said it was a clue."

Amanda swayed into the main area with a soda can in one hand. "Boys, you need to take a break. Perhaps fresh air would help?"

Mac nodded and stood up, as he passed her, he kissed Amanda.

Methos watched the interaction and thought of Darcy. The taste of her lips was suddenly there, he smiled gently, brushing a thumb across his lips.

"Methos..." Amanda slinked up to him, "Why the smile? You've never done that before."

He dropped his hand, "It's nothing."

"I've meaning to ask you, why did you want those stones? They sure as heck weren't cheap or easy to find either."

Methos stood quickly, "That's why I asked you to get them for me." He stepped around Amanda's long legs and made his way above deck.

For some reason, the dark feeling he'd been carrying was worse now. He hadn't realized what was bothering him until now. Until Amanda mentioned the stones, a sudden though seized him. Darcy!

"Mac, I have to take care of something, I'll be right back." Methos hurried onto dry land and ran for home.

Methos stopped at the sight of the open door. Shards of wood were sprinkled across the ground; a few were embedded into the welcome carpet. Darcy had insisted they get one. Methos leaned his back against the railing, his breathing rapid and fearful.

The presence of two Immortals washed over him and he spun. Sword out and read to strike.

"No! Methos it's Mac!"

He saw Mac and Amanda as they stood looking up. There was a flight of stairs separating them. Mac had his hands up with Amanda tucked behind him.

"What are you doing here?"

"You looked terrified when you ran off. I was worried." Mac glanced at the area behind Methos. "Did someone break into your place?"

"You might say that." Methos lowered the sword but kept it out. He took gentle steps toward the door. Nothing came at him.

Methos stepped into his apartment. More broken wood was lying on the floor, glass sparkled in shards. The whole apartment was in ruin. He exhaled when there was no body waiting for him. She wasn't dead.

Mac came up behind and looked around, "What happened?"

"Thieves probably," Methos muttered.

"Ah, I doubt that." Amanda nodded to the bed, "That's blood."

Methos hurried to the tangled mass of blanket and sheets. A bright red smear of blood unfolded from the mess. His sword hit the floor with a heavy thud. Methos was on his knees. Clutching the bloody sheets to his chest.

Mac and Amanda stared at one another then at him.

"Ah, Methos, it's only cotton." Amanda said gently, "You can buy new ones."

Methos didn't hear her; his sense were filled with the scent of his fiancé. The sheets still smelled of her sweetness, of her love. He could still feel her warmth on them.

Mac crouched down beside the world's oldest man and touched his shoulder.

"Who is she, Methos?"

Every muscle tightened in his body at Mac's words. Methos looked up from the sheets, his face wet with tears.

"I haven't seen you act like this since Alexa. There's a woman involved, now who is she?"

Methos sucked in a deep breath to steady himself. It is true Alexa had touched his heart, had loved him while she could. But Darcy was different. She was constant, permanent in his life. Darcy was his soul-mate.

"She's my soul-mate."

Mac looked to Amanda, she shrugged. He looked back to Methos.

"And?" Amanda asked carefully.

"And I asked her to marry me this afternoon." Methos clutched the sheets tighter. "That's why I asked for the stones. They were for her ring."

"I take it she said yes?" Mac inquired gently.

Methos nodded.

"I hate to be the nay-sayer, but is she aware of what you are?" Amanda asked darkly.

"Yes." Methos made himself stop squeezing the sheets. "We've known each other for the last three thousand years. I first met her..." He paused as the storm of memories hit him, "It was along time ago. Every time we meet it's like a Quickening, only without the dead body. She touches my soul in a way I only feel with her."

"And she keeps dying?" Amanda asked.

Methos nodded, "My enemies kill her." He hung his head, "I thought that by being engaged the pattern would stop. She would be safe, we could live together."

"Well maybe there's a piece of the puzzle you still need to solve."

Mac nodded, "Amanda's right. You need to tell us everything. There's clearly a pattern here." He saw the pain on his friend's face, "Methos, she's not dead. They would have left her body here if she was. Now think, think about this. She's still alive."

Methos stared at Mac like a fool. He had thought that originally, but the sight of blood had sent him over the edge.  
Not exactly the kind of behavior one expects from a five thousand year old man. He stood up slowly, put the sword away and looked at his apartment.

Nothing was missing. Things were damaged and some ruined, but nothing was gone. He frowned and reached under the bed. The box he drew out was a heavy dark wood case with three brass latches. He lifted them and than the lid. The contents were gone.

"What was in there?" Mac asked.

"A sword,"

Amanda stepped up on the other side, "Why would have sword under your bed?"

"I never use anymore, the last time I carried it, Alexander ruled the world. I saw Darcy die that time. It was horrible. I put the sword away and found the one I use now."

"So it's being gone, proves what?" Amanda asked.

"Darcy never knew this was here. Whoever took her, knew I had it." Methos stopped cold. "Alexander is the only who would know that."

Mac stared at the man, "You mean Alexander the Great?"

Methos nodded, "He gave the sword after our first battle together."

Amanda frowned, "But that would make Alexander an Immortal."

"Why would he come after you?" Mac asked carefully.

Methos sighed, "He never understood how I could love Darcy so much. When he found out she was the daughter of King Darius, he wanted to kill her." Methos paused as the memory came back, "I was too late to stop him. I swore to get revenge. But he disappeared before I got the chance."

Amanda stared at the empty box, "So Alexander the Great kidnapped Darcy in order to get you to fight him?"

"So it would seem."

Mac stared at the box then Methos, "Is it possible he's been the one killing her all this time?"

Methos turned his head slowly, "What?"

"Well you said Alexander wanted revenge on her. You tried to stop him. It's possible he might still carry a grudge."

Now that Mac mentioned it, the idea was possible. Methos considered it and nodded slowly.

"That sounds like something he would do."

"Oh this is wonderful," Amanda quipped, "We're going after Alexander the Great. This is fantastic. Where are we supposed to start?"

Methos let go of the lid, it slammed shut with a bang. "I know the place."

END OF CHAPTER TWO


	3. md3

_****_

_** Note to readers: This chapter has violence in it. It also has some mature situations. Read at your own discretion. **_

**_TIMELESS -- CHAPTER THREE_**

_  
I guess, I'll die another day  
I guess, I'll die another day  
  
I'm gonna break the cycle  
I'm gonna shake up the system  
I'm gonna destroy my ego  
I'm gonna close my body now  
  
Uh, uh  
  
I think I'll find another way  
There's so much more to know  
I guess I'll die another day  
It's not my time to go  
  
For every sin, I'll have to pay  
I've come to work, I've come to play  
I think I'll find another way  
It's not my time to go  
_

--Die Another Day—Madonna

HOURS LATER

Darcy snapped to awareness. Cold had seeped into her bones, the chattering of her teeth was loud. She looked around carefully. The room was stone; the floor had an inch of water and she was chained against the wall. Her feet were in the water. From what her senses told her; she was cold, wet and hurt.

She shuddered as a lock bit back and a hidden door opened. Heavy steps scuffed down stairs she couldn't see. The figure wore heavy boots with heels, like motorcycle boots. Black jeans covered powerful legs; a fancy belt buckle cinched a narrow waist. The deep red of a sweater was cloaked by a black leather jacket. They stopped one step above the water.

Darcy gasped in horror and amazement at the face she saw. The face was masculine and gorgeous. The lines were clean cut and young. A strong nose gave him a powerful profile. But it was the memorizing blue eyes and shock white hair that made her gasp. There was only one man with blue eyes like that.

"King Alexander?" Darcy stared at the former Emperor.

"Hello Darcy," He spoke pure English, no accent or stumbles. "You look unchanged from our last meeting."

"Our last meeting was thousands of years ago." She saw him smile and her heart stopped.

He laughed, "I remember."

CAMP OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT

Maya was dragged from the tent by two men. The grip hurt as they hauled her across the sand. Screaming was useless because of the gag in her mouth. Maya was dragged past the camp; the soldiers watched and didn't move; no one tried to stop them.

The two men tossed her forward; she landed and rolled before hitting a pair of legs. She looked up. The muscled legs led to a narrow waist and powerful shoulders and features.

The gag was torn off her face and she cried out as some skin went with it.

"My lord," Maya backed away but never stood. "What is going on?"

"You have overstayed your welcome," Alexander spoke coolly.

Maya glanced back. They were far from camp; on the peak of a large dune, over looking an ocean of burning sand.

She looked at Alexander. He stood alone, no guards. He wasn't afraid of her. Maya moved to her knees, the ropes around her wrists made it difficult but she managed. Her body was hurting from the rough trek up here. 

"Methos won't stand for this," She said gently.

"Methos won't stop me." Alexander drew his sword.

The blade was stunning; the top half was engraved with a prayer Alexander said before battle. The hilt was gold with leather pressed into it. It was longer than most blades of that time. But it suited him. The blade, like the man, was a work of art.

Maya gazed up into his impossibly blue eyes; watched the wind tangle his white-blonde hair.

"I am sorry my lord." She whispered gently.

"For what? For poisoning my camp, for drawing breath in my presence?" Alexander shook his head, "That will be fixed shortly."

He moved his arm back and Maya rolled back. The blade hit air. She found her feet and sprang up. In that same move she drew a dagger from inside her clothes. She lept as he recovered from the powerful swing.

Maya felt the blade sink deep into his body. The warmth of blood spilled across her hand. She fell with him to the sand; as the blood seeped into the golden ground, it began to cling to her skin. Maya backed away as she gasped for breath.

Alexander the Great lay dead inches from her.

"Maya!"

She turned and smiled, Methos was running toward her. No one stopped him. They were too afraid of him to try.

Maya spun as a sound came from behind her. She screamed as Alexander opened his eyes. She moved back and slipped, her body tumbled down the dune, in the opposite direction of Methos' calls.

Maya choked on hot sand as it filled her nose and mouth. The world stopped spinnig and she lay dazed on the ground. Her head spun in a sickening pattern. In a haze of light, she saw a figure moving toward her.

"Methos?" She reached for him and pain seared her. She screamed as her wrist was sliced off. "NO! I killed you!"

"Wrong!" He laughed at her, "You can't kill me, princess." Alexander marched up, grabbed her hair and shook her. "Look Methos! Look at your precious lover." Alexander sliced through her body, it wouldn't kill her, but it was painful.

"Alex, stop! Please stop!" Methos was shouting.

Dimly Maya heard a fight; she made herself focus. Methos was fighting Alexander's personal guard. Five to one shouldn't have been a problem, but stopping him wasn't the point, just to slow him down.

Maya turned her head to the stunning Alexander. She stared into his eyes, they were cold and empty as death.

"No, please," She whispered as he drew back his arm. "My king..."

The blade punched through her body as pain engulfed her senses. Maya hit the sand as a scream ripped out of her. Alexander twisted the blade once and yanked it out. Maya hit the ground, her life slid away in increasingly slower beats of her heart.

Someone knelt near her; her vision was fading and tunneling, but she knew the face, the eyes.

"Methos," She touched his face and felt the warm flushed skin. "I love you."

"Maya, I love you." He wept as her hand fell from his face.

Maya exhaled her final breath and slid into a warmth that was far from life.

PRESENT DAY PARIS

Darcy was crying as the memory ended. The chains kept her from falling to her knees with grief.

"Why?" She begged and Alexander laughed. "Why?"

"You were my enemy," Alexander pulled in a deep breath, "I never expected to see you again, Princess. Imagine my surprise when I found you repeatedly."

Darcy was helpless against the memories his voice revived. Across her memory filed thousand of years, thousands of deaths and endless pain.

"You...You were the one." She stared into his young face and saw the death-filled eyes. "You were once a great King, ruler of over half the world, how could you end up like this?"

"Methos," He said the name with hate.

Darcy stared at him, "You love him."

The clenching of a fist was all the response she got, but it was enough.

"It's not my fault," Darcy said gently.

"Wrong!" Alexander shouted and she flinched, "You blinded him, kept him from seeing me. Without you he'd have to be with me."

Darcy wanted to laugh at him; she wanted to do anything but feel afraid. "You can't make anyone love you."

Alexander's eyes flared, "I am the great Alexander, no one refuses me!"

"Methos will never bow to you." Darcy snapped with surprising strength.

Alexander grinned, and it was frightening, "Then he will cower."

Darcy flinched when the door slammed behind Alexander the Great. She fell into tears as fear roared freely through her mind.

Methos ducked under a low branch and paused at the edge of the foliage. The presence of an Immortal washed over him. He recognized it slightly.

"Well?" Amanda eyed the château, "Alexander the Great lives here?"

"A corporation, Macedonia International, bought the estate two weeks ago." Methos in formed her as he watched the ground.

"And that's means Alexander the Great?" Amanda asked.

"It's possible." Methos stepped back into the shadows, a duo of guards passed with a large dog between them. "How many do you think he has?"

"Of what? Guards or dogs?" Amanda quipped.

As they discussed a plan, the balcony doors opened. Methos fell silent when he saw the man. His hair was still white-blonde, his eyes still impossibly blue. He even stood with the same self-assured power.

"That's him." Methos whispered.

Mac and Amanda looked up and stared into the eyes of Alexander the Great.

The King turned and went back inside.

"Do you think he saw us?" Amanda asked.

"Yes," Methos stepped out into the grounds. "Come,"

Mac followed slowly, "What are you doing?"

"Alex knows were here. That was his way of inviting us in."

"Right, to kill us." Amanda snapped.

"No. He's a calculating man."

"Like you." Mac muttered.

"Where you think he got it from?" Methos asked. "I was his closest friend for years."

They crossed the vast grounds to the edge of a twin staircase. A set of double glass doors opened as Alexander stepped out. He appeared to be unarmed.

"Methos," Alexander spoke gently, "Good to see you, old friend."

The presence of another Immortal washed over the quartet and Alex grinned. At his back a woman stepped out.

"Cassandra!" Mac gasped at her, "What are you doing her?"

"Finishing old business, MacLeod." She stared at Methos as she spoke.

Methos kept his gaze on Alexander, "Where is Darcy?"

Alexander leaned on the stone railing and grinned at him. "She will not be interfering with this. You should have taken my offer."

"Never." Methos sounded down right scary. "I swore to kill you and I will."

"Not if she kills you first," Alexander countered, Cassandra started down the stairs.

Mac stepped into her path, "Cassandra, I won't let you kill him."

"Then I'll kill you." She hissed and struck.

The first clang of blades was loud in the quiet French air.

Alexander laughed and disappeared into the house.

Methos ran up the opposite set of stairs in pursuit of him. Amanda hesitated for a moment.

"Go with him," Mac shouted to her.

Amanda ran after Methos.

Darcy had regained her senses but was still cold. She heard a scream and a thud above her. It took her a moment recognize the sound of a fight. More thuds and shouts followed.

There was a bang against the door followed by a thud. Darcy stared at the spot were Alexander had stood only an hour before. The door moaned open and feet hurried down.

Darcy saw the point of a sword followed by a slender woman with dark hair. It took Darcy a moment to recognize the eyes.

"Amanda!"

Amanda crossed the water with a sick expression. Darcy frowned at her, "Surely I can't look that bad."

"It's not you. These were my favorite shoes."

Darcy laughed, she couldn't help it.

Amanda used her sword to break the chains and Darcy fell forward. The Immortal caught her with one arm and they moved toward the stairs.

"Where's Methos?"

"Trying to find Alexander," Amanda helped Darcy up the stairs, "Who'd thought he was suck a prick."

"Disappointed?" Darcy asked as they reached the door.

"A little yeah," Amanda let her lean on the wall. "I'll take you out side."

"No, you'll take me to Methos."

Amanda stared at her, "You can't interfere; it's a rule."

Darcy stared at the Immortal and knew she was right. Suddenly she remembered something Methos had said at lunch.

"You can help me find Joe." Darcy said quickly and Amanda frowned at her.

"What?"

"Joe is here."

"Did Alexander tell you that?"

"Methos said Joe had enemies. Alexander must have figured out that if he took Joe he would eventually get Methos here." Darcy looked up and down the narrow stone corridor. There was nothing but bodies. Darcy stared at one of them, bodies that were armed.

"You're serious," Amanda said as Darcy crouched down and stared going over one of the bodies. "What are you looking for?"

"A knife, a sword, a weapon I know how to use."

Darcy found a dagger one of the bodies. She held it up with a victorious smile.

"Come on, we need to find Joe and get out of Dodge."

Mac countered yet another strike. "Cassandra stop, I don't want to kill you."

"You can't save him forever, he has to pay for his crimes" Cassandra shouted. "He destroyed my people; he slaughtered innocents. How can you defend that?"

"I don't defend what he did." Mac parried her attack and backed away. "But he's my friend. He's changed, Cassandra."

"Never!" She lunged again.

Darcy and Amanda helped the weakened Joe Dawson down the luxurious hall. The fresh air that wafted in from the open doors beckoned them. Darcy stepped out and saw Mac fighting with a woman.

"Alexander doesn't work with women." Darcy muttered as she helped Joe down the stairs.

"That's Cassandra, she's after Methos."

"Ex-lover?" Darcy asked as she helped Joe sit on the last step.

"I have no idea." Amanda sat next to Joe, she stared up at Darcy. "What are you going to do? You can't stop Methos from fighting Alexander."

Darcy pulled in a deep breath, "I can't just stand here either."

Mac rolled under a lung and came up with his back to Amanda and Darcy.

Just then a man came flipping over the balcony and hit the ground. It was Methos. Darcy forgot the woman and ran to his side. He opened his eyes and stared at her.

"Darcy?"

"Hi," She kissed him softly. "You're late."

Methos touched her face, "I really should get a watch."

"You can't be late on our wedding day," She told him and he smiled.

"Isn't that sweet," Alexander snapped.

Darcy looked up to the balcony and the King vaulted over. She grabbed Methos as he stood and pulled him away. Alexander brought his sword up. Darcy recognized it as the one he killed her with.

"Don't kid yourself, Princess." Alexander stepped toward them. "You're still going to die."

"Not this time." Darcy wasn't scared anymore. "It's Darcy by the way,"

Alexander lunged at her; Methos parried the attack, stepping in front of Darcy.

Mac turned to Cassandra, "You see; he has changed."

Cassandra watched Methos fight to protect the girl. She watched as he fought with his entire heart and body. He was desperate to win this battle. In all her years she'd never seen him fight like this. Even against Silas it had been different.

Cassandra looked to the girl. Her black hair was tangled and messy; her green eyes were filled with fear as she watched. But under the fear, Cassandra sensed love, a deep, never ending love.

Mac watched Cassandra as she studied Darcy. He saw her face soften, her eyes lightened.

"He loves her enough to die." Cassandra muttered and looked at her sword. "You are right, Duncan."

She stepped away from him and pulled in a deep breath. "Alexander!" Her voice carried with an odd ring.

The king turned his head, Methos plunged his blade into the man's chest. The next blow took his head off.

Darcy went to her knees as she watched Alexander fall. Amanda hauled her backward as a fine mist began spinning around Methos. The sky darkened like an eclipse was happening. The wind whipped up as fire erupted at the first strike of lightening.

Methos collapsed as the Quickening ended. Darcy ran to him; pulling his body into her lap, she held him. Her fingers combed back his hair, her lips kissed his.

Cassandra turned away from them and silently left the grounds. Mac helped Amanda with Joe and they departed as well.

Darcy rocked gently as Methos recovered in her arms. He used his free hand to cover both of hers.

Not a word was said as they held one another. Thousands of years of brutal separation had been ended, there was nothing to say.

END OF CHAPTER THREE.....CHAPTER FOUR TO FOLLOW


	4. md4

TIMLESS – CHAPTER FOUR

Every night in my dreams I see you, I feel you  
That is how I know you go on.  
Far across the distance and spaces between us  
You have come to show you go on.

Near, far, wherever you are,  
I believe that the heart does go on.  
Once more you open the door  
And you're here in my heart,  
And my heart will go on and on. 

Love can touch us one time and last for a lifetime,  
And never let go till we're gone.  
Love was when I loved you, one true time I hold to  
In my life we'll always go on.  
Near, far, wherever you are,  
I believe that the heart does go on.

Once more you open the door  
And you're here in my heart,  
And my heart will go on and on. 

You're here, there's nothing I fear  
And I know that my heart will go on.

We'll stay forever this way,  
You are safe in my heart,  
And my heart will go on and on. 

Celine Deon – My Heart Will Go On

TWO WEEKS LATER

It was noon in Paris as Darcy left the boutique, Amanda followed her, both carried bags.

"I still can't believe it." Darcy muttered as she walked down the street.

"Believe what?" Amanda asked.

"Everything," Darcy looked to the woman, "Thank you for agreeing to help."

Amanda shrugged, "It's not everyday the world's oldest man gets married."

Darcy laughed, "I guess not.

Mac stepped out on deck when he sensed Amanda. She carried numerous bags with her. He wasn't surprised. The Highlander helped both women onto the boat.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?" Amanda inquired as she went below deck.

"I wanted to make sure you got back on time." Mac said and Amanda gave him a scathing look. "Alright, I'm going."

He nodded to Darcy and left the boat. Amanda listened for the sound of his car before grinning.

"Now let's get you ready."

Methos passed back and forth across the church floor. He kept tugging at his suit jacket. His hands danced over his hair, his collar and down to the buttons on his jacket. He couldn't believe he was so nervous.

Mac finally grabbed him and made the man stand still. "Stop worrying."  
Methos exhaled deeply and looked at the two guests. Joe Dawson was in front; beside him was Monsieur Lewis, they were chatting about music.

"That's easy for you to say," Methos countered and breathed deeply. "What if something happens?"

"Nothing is going to happen." Mac smiled at him, "We chose a church for a reason."

Methos frowned at him, "Not funny MacLeod. Someone could attack after the wedding."

"No one is going to do that."

"We you this nervous when you got married?"

"Yes," Mac met Methos' gaze, "But I trusted in the love we shared. Nothing else mattered."

Methos nodded, "I see your point and I know she loves me."

"You're damn right she does. What other woman would put up with your yapping about Nero and Cleopatra?"

The alter was guarded by the middle aged minister who had agreed to help them. It was a last minute arrangement and there was another wedding an hour from now.

Because of the quickie arrangements there weren't any decorations or flowers. Besides, Amanda had argued, there was too much history to make a suitable theme. Lingering in the back of the church was the wedding planner for the next wedding. She kept pointing and whispering to her assistant.

Methos kept noticing the looks she was giving him. He was amused that she was checking him out.

Methos opened his mouth to argue with the last comment but stopped. The minister stepped up to them and asked a few last minute questions

"Which of you gentleman is Mr. Pierson?" Methos indicated he was, "And this is your best man?"

Methos nodded, "Yes."

"Alright so this is how it works."

Minutes later Mac was still trying to get Methos to relax.

"By the way, why are you using your alias?" Mac asked lightly.

"What was I supposed to put...name: Methos, born: 4000 B.C?" Methos shook his head, "It doesn't matter what name we use, it's only paper."

Mac eyed the man, "This it the twenty-first century, Methos, paper means a lot."

"Fine, then don't sign it." Methos was getting edgy, "What is taking so long?"

Mac glanced at the closed doors; the wedding planner was still there. "Perhaps it's the dress."

Methos paced away from Mac and moved his tie to half mast. Mac sighed as he resisted the urge to fix it.

"Relax," Mac whispered to Methos, as he adjusted the man's tie for the last time. "You'll be fine."

"I can't." Methos kept touching his tie or his jacket. "I keep feeling like I'm going to mess up."

"You won't, now just calm down."

"Have you got the rings?" Methos asked quickly.

"Yes, I have them." Mac patted his shirt pocket.

"It's good of you to wear a kilt." Methos said and Mac shrugged.

Mac had to admit, when Darcy had asked him to wear a kilt, he'd been surprised. But after a few minutes of thought he'd agreed. His friend was marrying the girl he loved. Mac could wear a kilt for a few hours.

But it did feel odd to be wearing the MacLeod tartan again. Before Mac could contemplate it Amanda poked her head into the sanctuary; she gave a thumbs up sign.

"Here we go." Methos said nervously, "I'd rather face an army then do this."

Mac nudged him, "You'll be fine."

"Yeah." Methos cleared his throat as music came from a portable system. The doors opened, "If my heart stops..."

"We'll wait." Mac lowered his voice even more, "It's only been a three thousand year waiting period."

Darcy was nervous as Amanda fluffed her veil and grinned at her. She stood staring at the doors, clutching her simple bouquet and wondered what Methos was thinking.

Amanda stepped up to the doors and gave the thumbs-up sign to the men. A second later the music started and the doors opened.

The restaurant was closed for a private party; the interior was light to a soft golden glow. A couple danced on the floor as other sat a large table. The spectators watched with pleased expressions.

Methos held Darcy as they swayed to soft music. He breathed in her perfume and the smell of her. Nothing had ever been sweeter. His hands felt the movement of her body; time didn't matter now, the eons of absence were gone.

Mac stood and offered a hand to Amanda. They stepped onto the floor and danced together as the music shifted to a Spanish song.

Mac paused at the song, "Flamenco." He arched a brow at Amanda and she shrugged. They went into the passionate dance.

Methos led Darcy off the floor. He stepped out into the private atrium just off the main building. From inside was laughter and song. Outside it was cool and welcoming.

"Darcy," Methos kissed her hands, the words stalled.

She placed a finger to his lips, "I know." He stared at her with teary eyes, "Not even time will keep us apart."

He held her to him. "Not even time."

A man cleared his throat. Methos looked up it was Joe.

"Sorry to bother you, but Mac has a speech to make."

Methos sat at the table with Darcy; he held her hand under the table. Mac stood in the middle of the room. He was acting drunk as he raised his glass.

"To the world's oldest couple," He said, slurring slightly, "May they never divorce; I can't imagine the paper work involved."

Amanda laughed as she joined the toast, "You two deserve happiness in all its forms."

Mac staggered back to the table and set his glass down. When he straightened he was totally sober.

"Now for a little Scottish dance."

Amanda roared with laughter as the music turned into a Scottish tune and Mac started to dance. To her complete surprise he actually seemed capable.

Darcy joined in and laughed as she was spun around.

The laughter stopped as something but through the glass windows. There was a scream as the glass shattered in a hail of bullets.

"Darcy!"

She saw Methos rush for her; she saw Joe and Mr. Lewis on the floor. As Methos reached her, pain blossomed and she looked down at her white dress. Blood was turning it red.

Looking up she saw the room full of bodies, Methos was lying dead at her feet. She looked up at the sound of laughter. She screamed as she Alexander standing in front of her.

Darcy jolted to awareness; it was mid afternoon, not evening. She was on the boat not at the restaurant. Amanda peaked out of the kitchenette and smiled.

"What's wrong, you were shouting?"

"Nothing." Darcy stood up and grabbed her jacket, "I am going for a walk."

"Be back at three, we have to get you ready." Amanda called as Darcy went above board.

Darcy kept her coat closed using her hands. As she walked she thought of her meeting with Methos. The song had been saying more then she realized. In the three thousand years she'd had with him, she and Methos had never married. Not even talked about it.

Now she was mere hours away from the official ceremony. Darcy stopped cold as she realized what was wrong. She was scared; scared to marry him, scared to live with him. Scared of the whole thing.

She spotted a nearby bench and sat down. Marrying Methos meant living in his world. The sword fights; the Quickening, the whole thing, which would be her life as of four o'clock this afternoon. The question was: Could she deal with it? 

Darcy sighed; her head sank into her hands. Around her the sounds of Paris flowed like a river. It was nonstop and completely real. Darcy looked up and watched the people, the crowds.

As much as she wanted to deny the chaos in her heart; Darcy knew she couldn't. She was scared of Methos.

Darcy stood quickly only to realize she had no where to go. Desperation filled her heart as she longed to talk with someone. But the only people she could share with were friends of Methos'. She needed someone outside of the fold.

Darcy pushed open the doors of the café. The counter personell looked up and smiled at her.

"Hey Darcy."

"Chantal, I need a few minutes."

"Sure."

The blonde woman joined Darcy at a table. "How is the new job?'

"Fine." Darcy mumbled as she shrugged off her jacket.

Chantal grabbed her left hand in a quick motion, "Is that new?"

"Yes." Darcy took her hand back, "I need to ask you some honest questions."

"Go for it."

Darcy started by telling her the story of meeting Methos at the café. She then told her about singing at the restaurant with him and getting a job because of it. Darcy skipped over the fight with Alexander the Great. But she told Chantal that he had stood up against a jealous ex.

Chantal's eye brows had climbed at that one. "He fought the guy?"

"Yeah." Darcy then told her about shopping with Amanda.

"And you found your dress instantly?" Chantal asked.

"Yes." Darcy told her about the plans for the wedding.

"And their not paying you pay for the church?"

"No." Darcy was getting frustrated with all the questions.

"And your new boss is letting you use his business for the reception?"

Darcy sighed, "So what?"

"Honey," Chantal took her hands, "You meet this guy at midnight while Frank Sinatra is singing of love. Then he fights an ex-boyfriend for you; not to mention you finding the perfect dress instantly. Add on top of that; getting your church and reception for free." Chantal shook her head, "I don't know what you're worried about. It seems as though you are meant to marry this guy."

Darcy wanted to argue; to tell her about the beheading of Alexander, tell her about the centuries of death she had endured. But that was a hopeless case; Chantal would never understand, she wasn't supposed to.

"Thanks for your time," Darcy stood up and grabbed her coat. "Thanks for making things clear to me."

Chantal watched Darcy leave and sighed, she'd never seen her so unhappy.

Darcy kept walking. Her head filled with even more concerns than before. Chantal had made some excellent points. If one believed in signs; Darcy had them in spades, she should marry Methos. But still she felt reluctant. What if....Darcy cut the thought off, the game of What If would last her for a life time. A life time she didn't want to waste.

She was forced to stop at an intersection. The crowd around her didn't notice or care about her. She stood as they crossed the street; no one on the street looked or stared. She was no more interesting then a tree, to them. But to Methos, she was priceless. To this five thousand year old man, she was worth dying for.

Darcy turned and ran back to Mac's place. Chantal had said it her self; Methos had stood up for her, he had risked his life for her, which had to mean something. It just had to.

Four o'clock was fifteen minutes away. Darcy stood in her wedding dress, holding a boquet of field flowers and tapping her toe.

Amanda came back looking helpless. "He says that the wedding after you guys, moved up their time."

"So?" Mac asked quickly.

Darcy glanced at the Highlander; he was dressed in the MacLeod tartan and looking fully imposing. Standing beside her was Methos; he was wearing a black suit with beige shirt and gray tie. He looked stunning.

"So it means our church wedding it's going to happen." Methos said simply.

"No so fast." Darcy handed Methos her flowers and marched into the sanctuary. Amanda followed her. They men trailed quickly.

Darcy marched up to the crowd of people before the alter. The wedding before her was a full scale event. Big dress, fancy flowers, big price tag.

Darcy didn't care. She pushed her way into the crowd and the minister looked at her with surprise.

"Sorry to bother you," She said, no the least bit sorry, "I have an agreement with the padre here."

"We were here first," The woman snapped.

Darcy glanced over at her; dressed in her big gown and viel she looked pretty, the expression her face ruined it.

"I see," Darcy looked her up and down, "That's a nice dress."

The woman crossed her arms and glared, "So?"

"I'd hope that someone who can afford that can afford courtesy." Darcy kept her tone as light as possible.

The woman's face twisted in anger.

Darcy kept on going, "Now look here," She pointed to herself. "I didn't spend three thousand dollars on this, not even on my flowers. But I have spent three thousand years waiting for the right guy to come along." She nodded to Methos.

The woman looked over, her face never changed.

"Now all I am asking is a few minutes of time. Ten, fifteen at most, to let us say we do and then you can have the church to yourself."

"Three thousand years?" The woman scoffed, "I doubt that."

Darcy leaned into her, "Before you met him," She thumbed to the guy on the other side of her, "I am sure you felt like it was three thousand years."

The expensive bride looked at her husband-to-be, her face still didn't change.

"Marie," The man spoke up, his voice was quiet, "Give them a few minutes. We did take their time slot."

"No," Marie shook her head, her veil swished around her shoulders. "I won't give up _my_ wedding time."

"Well actually it's ours, your taking." Darcy said firmly. "But hey if you don't want to give it up, that's cool." She looked into Marie's eyes. "Marriage is about give and take, lady. Your life will be full of compromise from this day forward. You had better make some adjustments if you plan to stay married."

Darcy spun around marched back to Methos. He arched a brow at her, she grinned.

"Wait," The groom turned and came up to them. He glanced at Methos and Mac. "Ten minutes?"

"At most." Darcy assured him.

The man stared again at Mac, "He's part of it?"

Darcy shrugged, "He's the something blue, requirement."

Amanda snickered softly.

The man frowned, Darcy explained. "Something old," She pointed at Methos, "Something blue," Indicated Mac and something barrowed," She indicated Amanda, "These are her shoes I am wearing."

The man clued in and smiled gently, "I see. Alright, take your ten minutes, we'll wait."

"Thanks...a lot."

Fifteen minutes later; she walked out of the church married.

"So tell me again why we had to use your alias." Darcy asked as they drove to the restaurant.

"Well I couldn't exactly use my name," Methos informed her, "How would it look on paper. Name: Methos, birth date: 4000 B.C. (Second birth)."

"Second?"

"That's roughly when I died the first time." Methos informed her as Mac guided the car down the narrow roads.

"Oh," Darcy stared out at the streets. She suddenly recalled her dream and felt a chill race down her spine. "Mac, take us somewhere else,"

"What?" He glanced back at her, "What do you mean?"

"I mean go somewhere other then the restaurant. Now!"

"Alright," He changed course.

Methos gave her a confused expression. Darcy shook her head, "Call it a hunch."

Hours later she was dancing with Methos to the sounds of Frank Sinatra. The sloshing of water was romantic and the moon flooded the barge in silver light. Mac and Amanda were below deck, giving them personal time. 

"So are you going to tell me what that was about?" He asked as they swayed together.

Darcy placed her head on his shoulder, "These shoes make me almost as tall as you."

"Are you going to tell me or not?" Methos asked.

Darcy heard Mac shout as he ran above deck; "Mr. Lewis' place was just blown up."

Darcy felt a chill and it had nothing to do with the air. "Blown up?"

"Yeah, he was killed in it. The police are there now." Mac looked at her, "How'd you know?"

Darcy drew in a breath, "I had a dream this afternoon about a catastrophe at his place. Then there was the tone of Chantal's voice when I spoke to her. It sounded suspicious." Darcy shrugged, "I just thought we would be better off not going."

Mac was staring at her, "So it was a hunch." He looked to Methos, "I guess someone didn't want this to go through."

"But we got Alexander," Methos said coolly. "Who else could it be?"

Darcy suddenly recalled the woman who had distracted Alexander. "Cassandra?"

Both men looked to her in surprise.

Darcy shrugged, "It was just a thought."

Three days later

Mac stepped into the church and found Cassandra waiting for him. She was seated in one of the pews and looked relaxed. He sat next to her.

"Thanks for coming Duncan," Cassandra spoke quietly. "I guess you're wondering why I called?"

"I know why," He said dryly.

She looked at him, "How?"

"Darcy made us choose a different location for the reception. Later she said it was because of a dream."

Cassandra smiled, "I knew she was psychic."

Mac looked at her, "You would have killed her."

Cassandra sighed, "Duncan, when you understand? I will always carrying a hatred of Methos. That won't change."

"But you saved his life."

She shook her head, "No, I saved that girl from another heartache. Methos made love her, but that doesn't change who he was or what he did to me."

"But you would have killed Darcy," Mac repeated coldly, "She's not part of this."

"Oh yes she is," Cassandra counted firmly, "The moment she said yes, she was part of this game." Cassandra stood quickly, "One day someone will come for her. Not because she's a threat, but because she's part of his life. Eventually, his enemies will figure out that Methos loves her. She is a pawn, Duncan."

Mac moved to speak but she cut him off.

"Killing her that night would have saved her from years of waiting." Cassandra stepped into the aisle. "I hope that when she is killed, you can explain it to him."

She left the church; the doors made a soft thud as they closed, Mac didn't move from his seat. He was too lost in his own thoughts to move.

Darcy sat on the couch, watching the television. The movie was nearly over, she hadn't watched it. Her gaze kept going to the band on her left hand; the simple gold band that winked next to her engagement ring.

Pulling in a breath, she picked up the cordless phone, dialed a number and exhaled. A moment later the line was picked up.

"Hi mom," She said as tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh nothing much, just watching television." She listened to her mother talk as she silently cried.

"Darcy?"  
Pulling in a breath, Darcy stopped crying, "Yeah mom?"

"Your father and I want to come visit for a week or two."

Darcy frowned, "Why?"

"Well honey, you left so suddenly, we haven't seen you in three years. Things have happened in the family."

Darcy turned her head as Methos stepped through the door. She waved for him not to talk. He frowned but oblieged.

"Um, when are you coming?" She asked as he shrugged off his coat.

"We should be there by Friday."

Darcy felt Methos sit next to her, she automatically cuddled against him. "Friday? That's two days from now. Where are you staying?"

"With Philippe de Chardonnay."

Darcy vaguely recalled the name, "Oh, sure. When do you want to see me?" Methos frowned at her and she shook her head,

"Could you pick us up at the airport?"

Darcy swallowed, "Sure, okay. What time."

"Our plane lands at six." Her mother told her the gate, "I have to go, honey. Your dad wants dinner. See you Friday."

Darcy hung up and stared into her husbands eyes. She sat up quickly and crossed to the kitchen, Methos followed.

"Who was that? You looked worried."

Darcy placed the phone on the counter. She busied her self with taking out a frying pan. "Do you want eggs?"

"I want you to tell me who that was," Methos turned her to face him, his hands cupping her face.

"That was my mom," Darcy spoke in a rush; "She and my Dad are coming from New York for a two week visit."

Methos frowned again, "And?"

"And...." Darcy wanted to move, to look away from him, but he held her still. "And they don't know about you."

His frowned deepened, "And?"

"And they want me to meet them at the airport."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"Come with me," She said and he relaxed slightly, "I'll explain it to them."

"Explain us how exactly?"

Darcy got loose and opened the refrigerator, she took out eggs.

"I'll say we met at the café. We dated for six months and decided to get married. The rest they don't need to know about."

Methos his lean body against the counter, "And they're just going to accept it?"

"Probably not my mom, but my dad should. He'll just be happy I am married to a normal guy."

Methos laughed at that.

Darcy glanced at him, "Well you know, no tattoos or body piercing, nothing weird."

"No I just swing a sword from time to time." Methos watched her as Darcy moved around the kitchen.

"Come on, what should I say? That you battled Alexander the Great to break a three thousand year old jinx? That in fact you are the world's oldest man?" Darcy shot him a look as she opened a drawer, "Come on, Methos, they won't buy that."

"They are going to ask about kids," He said simply.

Darcy found a spatula and stood by the stove. She faced him with the utensil in one hand.

Her expression was cool. "So what?"

"So..." Methos said, "They are going to notice after a few years. How about that?"

"I'll tell them the truth," Darcy half-turned and stirred the eggs.

"The truth being..."

She sighed, "You can't have kids."

Methos frowned but it was the truth, "You don't seem keen on seeing your parents."

Darcy turned back to him, "I left New York because my mother wouldn't let go of Toby King. She couldn't understand why I had left him. To her, Toby King was, is, perfect. My father is a different matter. But my mother...she'll be a handful."

Methos watched his wife as she focused on the eggs, "Are we going to have them stay with us?"

"They are staying with some guy by the name of Philippe de....something."

"de Chardonnay?"

She glanced at the change in tone, "You know him?"

Methos nodded, "We spent time traveling Asia together back in the 1100's. He was a scientist then. I think he's now living as a Count."

"This just gets better and better."

"Your family is staying with him?" Methos sounded amused, "This will be interesting."

"How so?" Darcy frowned at him as he chuckled softly. "Methos...why are you laughing like that?"

He laughed harder at her tone, "You'll see."

END OF CHAPTER FOUR 


	5. Meeting the In Laws

TIMELESS – CHAPTER FIVE

THE IN-LAWS

When the world is darker than I can understand  
When nothing turns out the way I've planned  
When the sky turns grey and there's no end in sight  
When I can't sleep through the lonely night

_(Chorus)_  
I turn to you  
Like a flower leaning towards the sun  
I turn to you  
'Cos you're the only one  
Who can turn me around when I'm upside down  
I turn to you

When my insides are wracked with anxiety  
You have the touch that will quiet me  
You lift my spirit. You melt the ice  
When I need inspiration, when I need advice

Where would I be? What would I do?  
If you'd never hepled me through  
I hope someday if you've lost your way  
You could turn to me like I turn to you

_(Chorus)_  
I turn to you  
Like a flower leaning towards the sun  
I turn to you  
'Cos you're the only one  
Who can turn me around when I'm upside down  
I turn to you

-Melanie C – I Turn To You

TWO DAYS LATER

Janice and Roger Thompson had never been to Paris before. They stood marveling at the signs and crowds. To them this was an exciting adventure.

Methos a.k.a Adam Pierson stood watching the crowd at the appointed gate. Meanwhile his wife was off trying to locate the luggage point. Within the crowd he saw the couple. Early forties and very well heeled. The woman played it up more than the man. Methos was instantly wary of her. The couple huddled together like a pair of excited children.

The mother looked every year of her forty-three years. The father was younger than her and looked older. The mother was clearly the head of the household, as was shown by her behavior. She was the one to move first; the one who stood a step in front. Her face was that of a woman accustomed to getting her own way.

Methos knew she was going to handful. He got the distinct feeling; this mother was one of those controlling, do-as-I-do types. He understood why Darcy had moved to another country.

The father was a different story. Methos liked him. He had a kind face and generous eyes; this man was a loving person. Now Methos knew were his wife got her loving spirit from.

He turned as Darcy came running back. He loved watching her run; aside from watching her chest, he liked the way she moved. Her hair glowed and her face would flush with exertion. It made her beautiful.

"Did you find them?" She asked, standing on tip-toe.

Methos, who was almost four inches, taller this wife, nodded. "They look like tourists."

She made a sound, "They are tourists, dearest."

He glanced at her; the last couple of days, Darcy had started to use words like: honey, sweetie and dearest. At first he'd been annoyed. But then he realized it was a sign of her relaxing around him. Darcy was becoming comfortable enough to use her own words.

Darcy resorted to jumping up and down, her hand on his arm. Methos sighed and moved through the crowd. He cleared a path to the front of the line and the couple smiled. Darcy returned it and they walked up to her.

"Hi honey!" Her mother exclaimed as she hugged her daughter, "You look great!"

"Come on around," Darcy nodded to the security gates.

A few minutes later, Janice was hugging her daughter. She kept glancing at the man that stood off to the side. He looked cool and reserved.

Janice studied him from head to toe. His hair was cut short and was dark, it was all natural. His face was sharply planed, giving him a handsome clean-cut look. He wore a gray sweater with a black shirt underneath. His blue jeans were fresh and clean. The shoes he wore solid, black footwear, completely sensible. The coat he wore over the clothes was three-quarter length and came to his hips.

Janice had to admit the man was stunning; in fact she would say he was down-right gorgeous.

Darcy pulled away from the hug and went to her father. She had never been so happy to hug him. The only person she had missed was her father. She stood back from them and reached absently for the man.

Janice suddenly noticed the ring on his slender left hand. It was a simple gold band, like you'd find anywhere. It sat against his pale skin with a strange glow. Janice looked him over again.

"Mom, Dad," Darcy pulled in a breath, "This is Adam Pierson."  
  
Roger reached for his hand; Adam used his right to shake. Roger seemed satisfied.

"It's nice to meet a man who knows how to shake hands," Roger said in a manner of approval. "So Adam, how long you been with my girl?"

"Almost seven months." Adam admitted.

Janice cut in, "How long have you been married?"

Roger glanced at his wife, "Now Jan," He took her left hand, "Leave them be."

"What Roger?" Janice looked at her husband, "I was just asking?"

Methos saw where this was going and stepped in. "How about lunch?"

Roger jumped at the change in topic, "Sounds great."

Methos held his wife's chair until she was comfortably seated. He noticed that Roger did the same thing. Roger also took his wife's coat, like Methos did. They sat directly across from one another.

Within moments of sitting a waiter brought menus and took drink orders. Methos ordered a beer and Roger ordered coffee, Janice ordered black tea and Darcy had water.

"Adam," Roger spoke up, "What do you do for a living?"

"A little of everything: bartending, musician, scholar."

Roger lifted an eye brow, "That is diverse; you must like it?"

Adam nodded, "I do. Change is essential for me."

Darcy smirked gently at the menu, as she read the menu. Janice was making a show of struggling with it.

"Oh Roger, help me!" Janice declared, she instantly pointed at the menu. "What is this?"

Methos sat quietly as the couple dealt with the menu. Under the table, Darcy took his right hand. He glanced over at her; she appeared calm, but he knew better. She was nervous.

He leaned over; it looked as though he were kissing her neck, "Relax."

She glanced at him and offered a slight smile.

"Darcy," Janice spoke sharply, "I want you to tell me something."

Darcy looked at her mother, "If I can."

Janice set aside her menu with a swift motion, "Why didn't you invite us to the wedding?"

Roger's eyes squinted slightly. Darcy was prepared for it. "The arrangements were made quickly. Adam's best friend was leaving on business for a month. We had to hurry."

"So you wanted this friend to be there but not your parents?" Janice asked.

Darcy drew in a breath, "That's right."

Roger took his wife's hand as she tensed. "Now Jan, stop it. We'll talk about this after lunch."

"No, Roger. I want to talk about it now."

"Janice," Adam said her name like an order, she looked at him. "Darcy tells me you were on Broadway."

"Yes, for many years." Janice forgot about her daughter's wedding. "I worked in some of the great shows: Cats, South Pacific, Dolls and Guys and many more."

Adam nodded, "I see. So you must be a great dancer, a singer perhaps?'

"A singer, Mr. Pierson, I was a great singer."

"I've heard Darcy sing, she must have your talent."

Janice made a show of eyeing him, "She got many talents from me, Mr. Pierson."

"Call me Adam," He said gently and looked to Roger, "And you Mr. Thompson, what do you do?"

"I am-"

"Tell me Adam," Janice cut off her husband, "How do you expect to support a family on loose work?"

Methos stared at the woman; he was really beginning not to like her, instead he sat up a little taller.

"Darcy and I are doing just fine, Mrs. Thompson."

"Yes but what about children, they are expensive."

"That's not going to be a problem," He said icily. Darcy glanced at him quickly.

Janice arched a brow, "Why is that?"

"I can't have children," He spoke the words with complete vacancy. The words no lonter meant anything to him.

Roger's face darkened and Janice looked stricken. "But...But..." She looked to her daughter and anger clouded her eyes. "You...You did this on purpose!"

Methos was surprised at the anger from Janice. Darcy wasn't however and took it in stride.

"No, mother, I did not." Her tone was light, non-emotional. "I know how much you wanted grandchildren, but you've got Lauren and Becky for that."

Roger's face cleared, he seemed to accept that. He glanced at Adam; their gazes met. Roger gave a slight nod of compliance. Adam returned it.

Janice however was using this as an excuse to fight. Clearly she had come to Paris looking for a reason to fight with Darcy.

Methos felt sorry for his wife and for Roger; he well and truly did, a woman like Janice would have driven him nuts.

"So this isn't some scheme to get back at me?" Janice growled, "I knew you'd pull something like this. First you dump Toby, than you leave the country and don't call us for years. I knew all along that you were doing this....this revenge thing."

"Oh for...." Darcy stopped and took a deep breath, "This has nothing to do with revenge, mother. I love Adam and we are going to be very happy without children."

"Don't you dare do that to me!" Janice shouted, "I didn't' slave through eighteen years of music and singing lessons so you could just walk away."

Roger rolled his eyes, catching Adam's eye; clearly this was an old fight.

Methos was relieved when he felt the presence of Mac and Amanda.

Darcy was tensing up, Methos touched her leg and she jumped. Her eyes were dark as she looked at him. "What?"

"Mac and Amanda are coming."

She looked around to the door and stood quickly. She met them half-way and clutched the large man.

"What's going on?" He asked lightly, hugging her. He looked to Methos who gave a slight head shake.

"My parents just arrived and my mothers looking for a fight. You've got to help me."

"How?" Mac asked as he held her at arm's length. "You look angry."

"I know, I'm sorry." Darcy hugged Amanda lightly. Standing back she stared at the two Immortals. "Please just do something, anything."

Amanda jumped in, "What is she doing?"

"My mother is blaming for not doing what she wanted with my life."

Mac placed a hand on her shoulder, "I won't promise anything."

Darcy returned to the table, holding Mac's large hand. "Mom, Dad, this is Duncan MacLeod. He's a friend of Adam's, from his...scholar days. He's a martial arts teacher."

Rogers stood and shook hands, "Nice to meet you, Roger Thompson." He indicated the woman next to him, "This is my wife, Janice."

"Same, just call me Mac." Duncan nodded to Amanda, "This is Amanda LeFevre; she's a fashion designer."

Amanda nodded and offered a hand. Roger surprised by kissing the back of it. "Nice to meet you Mr. Thompson, Mrs. Thompson."

Janice was watching the two like a hawk. "A martial arts teacher and a fashion designer?"

"This is Paris, Mrs. Thompson," Mac said as he took up a seat next to Methos, closest to the wall. "You're bound to meet all kinds of people."

Amanda slinked into a chair beside Mac. "Where are you two from?"

"New York," Janice said coolly, "Central Park area."

Amanda raised her brows, "That's tres chic,"

Janice gave a shrug, "I suppose." She paused a moment, "So Amanda, what line do you design?"

Amanda didn't miss a beat, "Amore."

Janice's expression lit up, "Really? I love your new Fall collection."

"Thank you; we are expecting great things from this collection."

Darcy was relaxing with each passing moment.

"Mac," Janice turned her eyes to him, "How about you?"

"Nothing quite so fancy; I work out of the U.S. mostly, Paris is a nice place to vacation." Mac looked up at the presence of their waiter.

The orders were given; Mac and Amanda both had the same as Methos. The waiter got their drink orders as well. He returned a moment later with a beer for Mac and a coffee for Amanda.

"How long have you been friends," Roger asked as he doctored his coffee.

Mac glanced at Methos before shrugging, "Roughly four years, I can't remember exactly."

Methos sipped his beer as he watched the crowd. He caught sight of two women making their way over. They were clearly identical twins.

"Look Roger, its Rebecca and Lauren!" Janice stood quickly and ran over.  
Roger held up a hand in greeting. Darcy looked over but didn't move.

"Those are our two other daughter's Mr. Pierson."

Methos looked over; they were thin and gangly things, they reminded him of models. He wasn't surprised when Roger informed him of this fact.

"Both of them landed contracts with some big designer." Roger waved a hand, "I have no idea which one.

"Victoria's Secret?" Amanda offered and Roger nodded, "I recognize them from the catalogue." Mac gave her a long look, Amanda shrugged, "What?"

Janice nodded to the table and the two girls followed her. They both wore surprised expressions. Janice led them back to the table and waved to Adam.

"Girls, meet your brother in-law, Adam Pierson."

Becky and Lauren nodded in unison. "Hi," They spoke in unison as well.

Adam nodded respectfully, "Nice to meet you."

"You never said you were married," The one on the left said in a teasing voice.

Darcy shrugged, "It never occurred to me."

"We have to go, we're due at a show later." The one of the right said and turned to go.

"Why don't you guys come?" The other twin said quickly, "We can get seats for all of you. I mean, you're practically family."

"Lauren!" The other one said sharply.

"Oh come on Becky, it'll be fun." Lauren nodded to the table, "We'll let Mom know the time and place."

The twins left and Janice sat down with a happy sigh. "I forgot to tell you, but Becky's engaged." Janice glowed as she said the name, "To Count Philippe de Chardonnay."

Methos choked slightly on his drink and the other two Immortals exchanged glances. Janice didn't notice as her eyes sparkled.

"Their children will be beautiful."

Methos regained his composure and sat back, "I am sure."

Darcy was trying not to laugh and was mostly successful. Roger noticed but said nothing.

Thankfully their order arrived and the rest of the time was taken up with eating.

Darcy rolled over expecting her husband to be there. He wasn't. She sat up and yawned as she looked around the apartment. Methos was sitting in his great big chair; the one that reminded Darcy of an archaic throne. She took a moment admire his fine body in the pale blue hue of night. His boxers were stark in the shadow-light contrast. She eyed the gleaming sword that rested in his hands.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, sitting up fully. The sheets pooled in her lap.

"I was just thinking of today." He waved a hand, "You're mother seems very..."

"Dominating, controlling, manipulative?" Darcy offered

Methos looked at her, "Why was she so upset earlier?"

Darcy yawned and rubbed her face, "Which time?"

"The one about the lessons."

Darcy drew her knees to her chest and rested her cheek on them. "My mother's career ended when she married my father. She always regretted it. Once she had me, she was determined that I would fill that regret. Lauren and Becky were pushed into acting and modeling. I was forced to sing and dance.

When I was eighteen I hooked up with Toby King. A Broadway producer who promised to launch my career; two years later nothing had happened. I told him I was leaving and wanted nothing to do with him. Toby said I had no right to leave.

The night I was to perform in a big production I begged off sick and didn't show. The following day, Toby came to my place and shot my in the hip. The police never found the weapon and couldn't charge him. Becky was his alibi for the whole event. She said he was with her all night. There was no way to crack the case and no one really cared. I was just another injured performer; there were a thousand more like me.

Methos watched his wife speak; her expression went from sad to weary to just plain tired.

"I came to Paris to start a life of my own. Away from the stage and the spotlight and defiantly away from my mother." Darcy turned her head at him, "So far I got what I wanted."  
Methos stood, set aside the sword and crawled into bed. He pulled her on top of him. His hands rested on her hips. "Darcy, I don't want you to regret this."

"Why would I do that?" She asked honestly confused.

"We'll never have children. I saw you're father's disappointment at that."

"Oh," She said and leaned forward, resting her elbows on either side of him. "Well that's his problem."

"It doesn't bother you?"

She shook her head; her hair glinted off the blue light that filled the room. "I love my father and want him to be happy. But I love my life with you more. I feel complete with you; like a hole is filled. I don't need anything else to make me happy."

Methos stroked her face and smiled, "Good to know."

Darcy traced his cheek bone with one finger, "What are we going to do about the Count?"

"What do you mean?"

"You aren't going to fight him are you?"

Methos shook his head, "I have no reason to."

"And what about Becky?"

"You want me to behead your sister?"

Darcy laughed gently, "No, no. I was just wondering if she knew about him."

"Probably not; you're very rare in knowing about us." Methos kissed her deeply, "Enough talk,"


	6. Down for the Count

TIMELESS – CHATPER SIX

Down for the Count 

Lofty timbers, the walls around are bare, echoing to our laughter as though the dead were there...Quaff a cup to the dead already, hooray for the next to die! -- From 1931 Dracula, spoken by Lucy Weston.

THE FOLLOWING DAY

Mac was leaning against his car when he sensed Methos. He looked down the street and saw him approaching. Methos had his arm around Darcy's shoulders. Mac admired the way Methos loved her. It was full and complete. Mac often wished that for himself. The couple where talking easily as they made their way across to the boat.

"Morning," Darcy happily, "It's good of you to join in today." She looked around, "Where's Amanda?"

"Business meeting," Mac said and Darcy nodded with a smile. "Shall we?"

The drive to the estate of Count de Chardonnay was lively. Mac was anxious to relay some of his funnier stories. Making the time pass easily and resulting in good moods for all of them.

Darcy stared up at the massive house; she'd seen mansions before, but this one vibrated with something rich and old. Methos and Mac stood on either side; looking up at the house with her.

"How many rooms do you suppose there are?" Darcy asked.

"At least ten," Methos muttered, "Perhaps more."

Darcy looked down, her gaze settling on the doors, "Well, let's face the firing line."

They approached the house and both Immortals stopped. The front door opened a moment later; a very handsome brunette man stood before them. He wore a red vest with a charcoal gray suit and crisp white shirt. He looked stately in a modern way.

"Methos!"

"It's Adam," Methos told him quickly, "This is my wife, Darcy Pierson."

Phillipe looked at Darcy for a long moment before smiling, "But of course." He held out a hand, "You are very welcome, Mrs. Pierson." He had a distinct British accent.

Darcy smiled warmly at him, "You must the Count."

"Please call me Phil, everyone else does."

"I understand you are going to marry my sister, Becky."

Phil nodded, "Beauty is a family trait," He glanced at Methos, "If I may say so?"

Methos grinned at him, "Still being the gentleman, are we Phil?"

"Always, old boy."

Darcy followed the trio of Immortals down a vast hallway. It was painted a muted yellow and covered in priceless art work, most of it was paintings. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for rectangles of sunlight on the black and white marble floor.

Phil paused at a set of double wooden doors and opened them with a flourish. The room was a dinning area. The table was long enough to comfortably seat twenty; but only held four individuals, Roger stood as Darcy entered.

He hugged and nodded to Adam and Mac. Roger retook his seat as Phil waved the newcomers to chairs. Servants appeared almost magically and offered wonderful options for breakfast.

Darcy helped herself and ate it happily.

"What are the plans for today than?" Phil asked as he nursed coffee and nothing else.

Lauren and Becky both spoke at once, "The fashion show is today.'

"Ah yes!" Phil exclaimed, "The showcase of heavenly women in scant clothes; I have been looking forward to this for weeks. Becky and Lauren have been dropping hints about what to expect."

"No doubt it will be great." Mac added and Phil nodded.

The twins stood up, Becky spoke as Lauren kissed Phil, "We have to go, but we'll see you at two."

They left the house and Phil was still beaming. "Such wonderful girls."

Darcy watched Phil and couldn't help but feel he was a bit too cheery.

Janice stood, "I need to find an outfit for this afternoon." She looked at Darcy, "Darcy, I could use your help."

Darcy frowned to herself but stood up slowly, "But..."

"Darcy," Her mother said her name as a warning.

Placing her hands on Metho's shoulders; Darcy kissed him deeply, Janice didn't wait to see if she followed.

Phil reclined in an overstuffed chintz chair. "Tell me Methos," He began as he lit a cigar, "How do you like being married?"

"Very agreeable."

Phil laughed, "I was married back in 1859, a wonderful girl, name of Martha. She died of a fever shortly after." Phil contemplated his cigar before speaking again, "That's the trouble of marrying mortals; they always die."

Methos watched his friend carefully, "Darcy and I have spoken about it."

Phil raised gray eyes to him, "Have you?" His voice was dark, "Well that's good."

"What about you and Lauren?" Mac asked as he sat beside Methos on the couch. "Have you spoken to her?"

"Good heaven's no!" Phil took a moment to savor his cigar, "She's a sweet girl; very insecure, but lovely." He made a face, "But her mother!" He looked to Methos, "Tell me, what do you think of her?"

Methos shook his head, "I keep my opinions to my self, Phil."

"That's new, when did you start doing that?"

"After I met you," Methos countered, making Phil laugh again. "You seem happy, Phil."

"Yes, I think I am."

"Is Lauren the cause?" Mac asked gently.

"Perhaps, I don't' know to be honest."

Mac asked, "Do you love her?"

Phil exhaled a stream of smoke, "I sure hope so."

"What do you mean, 'hope so'?"

"Come on MacLeod, at our ages we can't be expected to know love." Phil stood and crossed to the waiting bar. "Want a drink?"

"Yes." Methos said, Mac shook his head.

Mac was too focused, "Methos found love. Why not you too?"

Phil finished pouring and handed Methos his drink before sitting down again. "Methos is a softy at heart. It's just hard to find sometimes."

Methos raised his glass in mock salute. Phil mirrored him.

Mac shook his head, "I don't understand your reasoning."

"Well, Macky boy, it really doesn't concern you." Phil said in an icy tone.

The conversation shifted to the upcoming fashion show.

Boutique

Darcy stared at the fine French designs. They glistened and shone in the midday sun. The store was quiet the way exclusive stores are. As if waiting for the next big spender.

Janice was gloriously looking over dresses and skirts. Her fingers danced across the silk and cashmere selections. There was a saleswoman watching Janice with hungry eyes. Like she was about to pounce.

Darcy saw the woman tense and spring the instant Janice took something off the rack. Darcy turned away the sudden death as the woman spoke to her mother.

Focusing her gaze on the street outside; Darcy marveled in the pattern of sunlight. The way it fell and angled according to trees, buildings and even people. Darcy watched the flow of shoppers and felt distant from them. As though a part of her was gone and that which was left was fading.

"Darcy!"

She jumped and glanced over at her mother. Releasing a sigh, Darcy stepped up to her mother's side. "Yes?"

"Pick something," Janice waved to the selection, "Think of it as a wedding present."

Darcy crossed her arms, "Why? So you can hold it over me for the rest of my life?"

Janice was busy looking over more clothes, she spoke absently. "Your marriage won't last as long as you will. Trust me honey, it was a mistake to marry him. All Adam wants is your inheritance."

Darcy glared at the Chanel suit her mother wore, "He didn't even know about it until you mentioned it."

Janice shrugged, "A small matter. All he had to do is look up your father on the internet."

Darcy found her self gritting her teeth. "Stop it mother."

Janice selected a dress, "Stop what darling?"

Darcy grabbed the garment and her mother turned quickly, "Stop trying to control me. There is nothing left that you can hang over my head. This is my life! Adam is my husband."

Janice stared at her daughter with cool blue eyes, "Are you so sure?"

Darcy frowned, "Meaning what?"

"He looks to have a wandering eye. I don't trust him. You can't trust people of his class. You understand what I mean." Janice put on an innocent face. "I know you needed to feel grown up, so you married him. But come on dearest, he's a commoner. He's poor and he won't give you what you need."

Darcy almost grinned at her, "Of course. He's not blue-blood enough for you. He may not be a damn Count of wine, but Adam loves me." Darcy threw the dress at her mother. "If you don't like what you see, then fucking leave!"

Darcy left the store more angry then she'd been in years. Anger made her run as she fled her mother's words. Darcy kept running until she was forced to stop because of pain. She collapsed on bench and sobbed.

"Darcy?"

She jumped and looked up, "Amanda?"

The Immortal removed her sunglasses, "You look awful."

"I feel sick, like I am going to fall apart."

Amanda grinned, "I know what you need. Come on."

Amanda grabbed Darcy and hauled her up. The drive in Amanda's car was short and fast; the sleek machine was made to fly.

"Where are we?"

"A women only club." Amanda grinned as she got out. Darcy followed her into the fine building.

There was a middle aged woman at the desk; she grinned at Amanda, "Ms. LeFevre."

"Good afternoon Lucy, how are things?" Amanda asked as she signed in.

"Very quiet."

Amanda led Darcy up a set of carpeted stairs. "Go on in," She pointed to a closed set of dark wood doors, "I'll be there in a moment."

Darcy gazed at the long room. It was about the size of a football field; the right hand side was mostly mirrors, the left held paintings of former members. Darcy took one look at the paintings and recognized the club. It was a sword club; the advanced version of a fencing club. Here they used real swords and practiced different styles.

"Okay!" Amanda exclaimed as she walked in, she had a single handed sword in one hand. "I'm sure you've guessed what this is."

"I have; you honestly think I can stand up to you?"

Amanda grinned at her, "We're not playing for heads,"

Darcy laughed as Amanda indicated the sword selection she could choose from. She didn't coach on what to look for. Darcy had figured out this was a test. One she was determined to pass.

Darcy stared at the neatly stowed collection; there were broad swords, long swords, and scimitars. There were creations from the Middle Ages and earlier. Darcy spotted the Gladius and grinned. She chose it. The pommel was topped by a stamped wooden disc; she could feel the tension of the wood under the leather grip.

The moment she touched the sword; she remembered how to use it. It was like a sleeping giant had woken.

Amanda watched as Darcy held the Roman sword. She could see the change that settled over the mortal. Her eyes grew dark as knowledge filled her. Amanda wondered absently how good Darcy was going to be.

"Ready?" Amanda asked after a few minutes.

"Yes."

Darcy shrugged off her coat and pushed up the sleeves of her shirt. Amanda removed her jacket and nodded to a taped section of the floor.

"Stay within the boarder." Amanda said as they stepped in.

Darcy had a moment of panic as Amanda saluted her. But the moment passed as complete knowledge took over.

ROME: 61 B.C.

Daria slid through the shadows of the grounds; the guards had no indication she was here. The Captains how was near by, she could see the glow of it from here. Keeping her back to the wall, Daria focused her attention on the wide open courtyard. She'd have to cross open space before reaching the Captain. She tightened her grip on her father's sword.

Daria studied the guards for several minutes; once comfortable that they wouldn't spot her. Daria ran across the twenty yard gap. She pressed herself against the columns of the house. From here she could see the hallways leading into the house. Servants wandered easily in the shadows.

Braziers flickered warmly against the shadows. Nothing moved in the shadows. She was safe so far.

Daria ran lightly along the corridors; she knew where his room was. No one spotted her or cried alarm. The house was quiet save for the sounds of night.

The double doors were gilded with gold and silver; works of ivory and wood worked to create the doors. The handle was gold. Daria placed her hand on it and slid between the doors.

There was no guard on the door which was odd; but not enough to stop her. The Captain's room was vast, as was the custom. He had filled it with reminders of his past conquests: Great tapestries, suits of armor, a collection of swords. Anything and everything that could be glorious.

Daria passed the tables and the chairs. The whole room was a distraction to her real goal. She pushed open the bedroom doors and paused. The Captain's shadows played against the walls of cotton around his bed.

He was in the midst of making love; his breathing was fast and heavy.

Daria continued on and quietly pulled back the curtains. She drew her arm back and exhaled softly. His body tensed as he reached orgasm, his head thrown back. Daria lunged upward; the sword went through his spine. He fell dead on top of his lover. Daria stared at her sister's face as the Captain's blood spilled outward.

Lucilla started to scream; wild ragged sounds of terror.

Daria spun around as guards flooded from another room. She tore her sword free and battled them. Lucilla's screams filled the background as Daria fought.

PRESENT DAY PARIS

Darcy felt the blade slide and twisted herself backward. Amanda's blade glanced off her shoulder. The blade was razor sharp and slit the skin in a shallow cut. Darcy didn't pause at the pain; she dropped to one knee and swung sideways.

Amanda gasped as her skin opened; she stared into cold green eyes, Darcy was elsewhere.

"I concede." Amanda stepped back. Darcy remained crouching for several minutes. Her eyes cleared and she blinked. "Well done."

Darcy looked around for a moment and drew in a deep breath. "Likewise."

Amanda eyed the small cuts on Darcy's body. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Darcy accepted a ride with Amanda back to the house. Amanda walked right in and knew her way around.

"Phil is a nice guy," Amanda admitted, "A little strange, but nice."

"He struck me as overly cheery this morning." Darcy informed her as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

"He can be sometimes; usually when he's planning something." Amanda looked at the collection of doors, "This one."

She pushed open the last door on the left and grinned, "This is where you and...Adam, will be staying.

"Thanks," Darcy sank to the bed, staring at the large widows and brocade curtains. Everything was so.... "So not me." Darcy muttered.

As she was changing into her little black dress, someone knocked before entering. She turned and smiled at her husband. He kissed her before looking her over.

"You're hurt." He remarked darkly.

"Not really. Amanda helped me burn off some energy. We sparred with real swords. These are just flesh wounds, it's nothing."

Methos watched her finish getting ready and admired her fine legs. As Darcy passed in front of him he grabbed her hand. His skin was aching to feel her touch. It's wasn't lust it was need.

She knelt at his feet, staring into his eyes, "What's wrong?"

"I love you so much," He said gently and kissed her mouth. His hands slid down her arms and wrapped around her back.

Darcy had never seen him so vulnerable before. He was scared of something. She held Methos as she clutched her body. His breath was warm against her neck; his hands firmly pressed to her back. She could feel the beat of his heart in his chest. It was the same steady rhythm that had gone on for five thousand years.

"You're scared for me," She whispered, "Why?"

"I don't know." He was crying softly, "I just...I'm afraid of losing you."

"Oh man," Darcy smoothed a hand through his black hair. "Methos, we've been over this a thousand times. We can't let Alexander run our lives; he's dead, for good. You took him remember?"

Methos nodded his head against her shoulder. "But still I fear for us."

"Did Phil say something?"

"He didn't have to. He made it obvious."

Darcy sat back, holding his face between her palms. "Methos, I don't believe this. You've got to stop worrying. I'm not some dopy broad who jumped your bones for fun. This is me you're dealing with here. We go way back you and me. No Count of wine or bitchy mother is going to interfere with us. Not after we faced off against Alexander the Great just to get married!"

Methos stared into her bright green eyes; he could see her drive, her passion. Darcy wasn't going to break and run. He touched her hair and kissed her lightly.

A knock came at the door, startling them both. "A moment," Methos called and stood up, he crossed to the door and opened it.

Roger stepped into the room and looked between them. "Sorry to interrupt, but it's time to go."

Darcy stood and quickly tied her hair back with an elastic. "We'll be right down."

Methos changed to a causal black suit with a blue shirt and black tie with pinstripes. Darcy was amused at how they matched; she carried a blue jacket over her arm.

Roger was waiting for them in the foyer; he wore a fine Italian gray suit. He smiled at his daughter and hugged her.

"You look wonderful darling," He eyed Methos, "Very nice, Adam."

"Thank you."

Roger drove them to the fashion show. He was using one of the Count's cars.

"Phil has assigned everyone a car for the two weeks." Roger informed them as they moved to cross the street. "How was shopping?"

"A nightmare, you know how much I hate shopping.

The room was mostly full as Roger, Darcy and Methos entered. Methos sensed an Immortal nearby. A young man in a white shirt and black pants stopped them.

"Invitations please."

"It's alright, Louis." Phil stepped up behind the young man, "I'm glad you could make it Darcy."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

They settled in front row seats; the lights went down and music came up. It was fast and pumping with a wild show of lasers in the beginning. A female voice echoed across the room. "Thank you all for coming to this year's collection of Victoria's Secret."

The show began with a bang, literally, the first model stepped out as a cloud of smoke swirled up to the ceiling.

At the end of the show; Darcy and her family were invited, (We won't take no for an answer) to the party.

The room was full of thin, tall women and ego filled designers. A series of large screen televisions replayed the show as music flowed in the background. Darcy hung near the back balcony as the room laughed and joked. Mac and Amanda were near the front talking with the Lauren and Phil. They were saying good bye to couple before stepping out the door. Becky was being adored by reporters. Darcy caught sight of her parents who where chatting it up with the designer.

"You look worn out," Methos startled her. Darcy hadn't heard him come up behind her. "Let's get out of here."

"I have to let my father know,"

They crossed the floor together; Darcy tapped her father's shoulder. Roger turned and smiled warmly.

"We're heading out, I've had enough." Darcy said as her mother turned slightly.

Roger nodded, "I understand." He looked to Adam, "Are you okay to drive?"

Methos nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Running already?" Janice asked.

Darcy ignored her father, "See you later, Dad." She kissed him on the cheek and turned to go.

"Darcy," Her mother raised her voice slightly, "Remember what we spoke about earlier."

Darcy left the room and welcomed the chill night air. She stood there for a few minutes, pulling in the cold air. Methos draped her coat around her shoulders.

"I take it you two had a fight?" He asked as he crossed to Roger's car and unlocked her door.

"Don't ask," Darcy snapped and climbed in.

Methos shut the door and went to the driver's side.

The house glowed like a beacon in the night. But for some reason, Darcy was unsettled by it.

"I am going for a walk." She said, hugging herself against the light. Methos kissed her lightly and she left.

He watched her disappear into the shadows. Looking down at the keys in his palm, he considered going inside. Shaking the idea loose Methos went inside

Darcy was cold as she walked. She kept rubbing her arms and shivering, noting helped.

"Darcy,"

She turned, expecting Methos, not Phil. She smiled anyway, "Hi."

"You look so sad." He said gently, cigar smoke filled the air.

"Oh no, just worn out, my family takes a lot of energy." She admitted lightly and he nodded.

"Would mind if I walked with you?" He asked.

"Not at all."

They walked along the darkened path; the rocks crunched as trees hugged the path. Phil spoke gently after a few minutes.

"Darcy, I understand you care for Methos," Phil was trying to chose is words, "But your kind and ours...we don't mix."

Darcy glanced at him, a suddenly bad feeling fell over her. "So?'

Phil tossed the cigar into the ground. "So, you have left me with no choice."

Darcy stepped sideways as his blade swept out his coat. Darcy didn't hang around, she ran down the path. Phil's laughter echoed in the air as she ran for her life.

Methos stepped into the warm shower as he yawned. The warmth sealed around him and the rush of water soothed his strained body.

Darcy kept sliding on the rocky path. She kicked off her heels and ran harder. Pain was spreading along her rib cage as she searched for the house. A glimpse of light to the left made her dive into the trees. She had to get there!

Darcy broke free of the trees and fell as her ankle twisted in a root. A cry of pain escaped her as she struggled to stand. A shadow fell across her path. She looked up into the face of Count Philippe de Chardonnay. His sword glinted off the light of the house.

"Good bye Mrs. Pierson."

Methos buttoned his jeans when he was suddenly knocked backward. A scream filled his head as if it were beside him. He recognized the voice and grabbed his sword. He ran toward the sound of his wife's terrified scream.

Darcy rolled on the ground, avoiding the downward swing of a broad sword. Standing was useless, but she could crawl and she could still use her arms. None of which was going to help her. Darcy drew in a breath and forced her self to stand. Pain roared through her limbs; still she ran, the house was getting closer.

Methos ran through the house in bare feet and jeans. As he ran he felt Phil's presence and knew he was close.

"Please, let me be in time." He pleaded softly.

Darcy kept falling but was forcing her self to move. Phil however was of a different mind set. Using one hand he grabbed her hair and flung her backward. Darcy hit the ground hard, something cracked in her side.

"You just don't understand, do you?" Phil raged at her. "Mortals don't belong in our world!"

"What about Lauren?" Darcy shouted at him, biting back the urge to cry. "She's mortal."

"She's rich, that's all I care about."

Darcy drew in a breath against the waves of pain, "You're already rich."

Phil grinned as he kicked her left side. "It never hurts...to be richer. I am a conquer Mrs. Pierson, some habits die...harder then others."

Darcy wanted to stop moving but she wasn't willing to die yet. Phil moved to strike when he paused, his eyes widened and he looked around. Darcy recognized it as the sense of an Immortal.

Methos came running around the corner. The house lights splashed across his chiseled upper body. Methos' strong features were drawn in anger as he stalked toward the Count. His sword flashed brilliantly as he pointed it at Phil in silent challenge.

Phil scoffed at him, "Don't be a fool, Methos. She's only a mortal."

"She's my wife, Philippe."

Phil turned his back on Darcy and switched sword hands, "You were always a fool."

Methos stepped into a fight position; he never looked away from Philippe.

Darcy backed away as their swords clashed in the night. Phil's black tuxedo strained and ripped as they fought. Methos looked like a Heathen god as he battled in only jeans. A thrust from Phil reversed positions, Darcy watched her husband's back. As he fought the muscles clenched and relaxed. His skin glowed in pale radiance under the electric lights of the house.

Darcy saw the misstep on Phil's part and didn't flinch when his head came off.

THE NEXT DAY

Darcy didn't comfort Lauren as she swept. Becky and their mother were clinging to her. Darcy wanted to leave but knew she couldn't; everyone had to be present at the reading of Phil's will.

Methos was sitting beside Darcy in a relaxed, quiet manner. Darcy rested her head against his chest; his arms were loose around her waist. Absently she stroked his fingers.

Mac and Amanda hadn't come home last night, Methos assured Darcy they were just fine. And Roger was lingering by the bar, a half-filled glass in one hand. He looked dazed.

Everyone turned as the door opened and in walked a plain looking man. He glanced at Darcy and Methos. Darcy nodded to the crying trio. He shifted his gaze to them and frowned slightly.

"Ms. Thompson?" He asked; the twins looked up in unison, which of you is Lauren?"

"I am," Lauren lifted her hand; her eyes were all red and puffy. "You must be Mr. Whitman?"

"Yes," He nodded and looked around the room, "I take it we are all here?"

"Yes." Lauren gave a great sniff, "What did Phil say in his will?"

Mr. Whitman pursed his lips, "To put it simply, Ms. Thompson. He left you everything, including the title."

Darcy's jaw dropped; Janice gasped as her eyes lit up. Lauren was blinking at him in disbelief. There was a crash of glass and everyone looked to Roger. He wore the same expression as Darcy: shock.

Hours later, Mr. Whitman left with signed papers. Lauren had recovered once told she the Countess de Chardonnay. The grieving widow had vanished in the blink of an eye.

"Mother, come on!" Lauren shouted again, her voice carried through the house. She paused at the sight of her sister coming down the stairs a step behind her husband. "Leaving so soon Darcy?"

Darcy paused, "I feel its best." She paused, unsure of what to say next. "Good bye Lauren."

Methos was standing beside Roger as Darcy closed the front door. She crossed the gravel drive way with a forlorn expression. Not even noticing the limousine nearby.

Methos wrapped his arms around her as she leaned against him with a sigh.

A moment later the front door opened again. All three looked as Lauren led the parade out the door. She was wearing an incredible fur coat; followed by Janice who wore an expensive suit and jacket. Becky hurried behind them, also dressed nicely.

"I always knew that would happen," Roger muttered. "Sooner or later, Lauren would take over and Becky would-"

"Would take my place." Darcy whispered as she watched them pile into the limousine. "I don't know how you stand it, Dad."

"I don't." He said easily and looked to Darcy, "Your mother and I are separated. Divorcing is too much of a hassle; the whole division of assets...." Roger shook his head. "Living in separate homes, living our own lives; we're better off."

Darcy laughed softly as she hugged her husband, "I should say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

Roger grinned at her, "I'm not either. Janice is a good woman, but I don't know how I lived with her for twenty-four yeas."

Roger went to the driver's side and slid behind wheel

Methos opened the back door for Darcy and climbed in the front of the car.

"So, what do you do Mr. Thompson?"

END OF CHAPTER SIX


	7. The Past of Mrs Pierson

_**TIMELESS – CHAPTER SEVEN**_

If the virtuous man who has not done any evil act in this birth suffers, this is due to some wrong act that he may have committed in his previous birth. He will have his compensation in his next birth... (Swami Shivananda, Practice of Karma Yoga, Divine Life Society, 1985, p. 102)

THE EARLY YEARS OF MRS. PIERSON

NEW YORK: THREE YARS AGO

Darcy Thompson arrived home after yet another dance practice. While in the city home was in the Upper East Side. She closed the door behind her, dropping her workout bag near the door.

"Hello Miss Darcy,"

Darcy smiled at Rosie, "How are you? I hope your son is better?"

"We are all fine thank you, Miss Darcy. Your father wants to speak with you. He's in the library."

"Thank you Rosie," Darcy left her coat and bag in the woman's capable hands.

The hall leading to the main floor library was interrupted by the spiral staircase leading up to the second and third floors. Darcy went by and continued down the sun-lit hall. The beige marble tiles glowed with warmth. Family portraits lined the right-hand wall. Darcy opened the first door on the left and Roger lifted his head.

"Hi honey," He wave to a leather chair in front of the desk. "I received this today." He nodded to a letter on his desk, "It's from Julliard." Darcy held her breath as he spoke, "Should we open it or wait for your mother?"

"Might as well open it." Darcy muttered and felt her self tense as her father took out the letter.

He exhaled after a moment, "Congratulations."

Darcy caved and slouched with relief, "Mom will be please."

Roger studied his daughter, "You're not?"

Darcy shrugged as she stood, making her way to the door. "You should tell her at dinner."

"Darcy," Roger stood and his daughter paused with the door open. "I got a call from your fencing teacher."

She arched a brow, "Oh?"

"He's worried about you."

She closed the door and leaned on it, "Did he say why?"

"He says you have a tendency to change disciplines. The students are complaining that you are cheating."

Darcy snorted, "Oh come, just become I am better then they are? I would never cheat, you know that."

"Just the same, watch it." Roger sat down again and the door closed softly.

It was five p.m. when the Lincoln Towne Car pulled up in to the School of Drama and Art. Darcy stepped out of the car. She adjusted the fit of her long coat over her fencing uniform. The driver handed her a black leather case.

"Thank you Jones, I'll be ready at nine."

"Very good Miss," The chauffer tipped his hat and closed the door. "I'll be here."

Darcy carried her fencing bag into the exclusive school. The interior was hushed like with most schools. This one had cherry wood floors and walls with brass accents. Crystal chandeliers and ivory touches carried through out the school.

"Good evening, Miss Thompson."

Darcy glanced to the left as one of the instructors entered. "Hello Mr. Champion."  
"I was told you put on quite a display on Monday."

Darcy shrugged and headed down the hall, "Not really. I have been learning other disciplines aside from what Mr. Henry is teaching. The match called for some improvising, that's all."

Mr. Champion walked next to her, "We are very impressed with your progress. In the two years you've been with us, you've done extraordinarily well." Mr. Champion laughed softly, "Some say you've done this before."

"I assure you I haven't." Darcy said as they turned to the left and climbed a set of stairs.

"That's what I told the teachers." Mr. Champion paused as they came to the doors, "But if that is true, than how do you know so much about weaponry?"

Darcy met his gaze, "Books are a wonderful thing, Mr. Champion."

He seemed to accept that and nodded farewell.

Darcy entered the room and dropped her equipment on the bench. She shrugged off the long coat and hung it up on the brass pegs. Unzipping her bag; Darcy laid out her helmet, swords and other equipment. She began to stretch out her muscles.

Leaving her helmet on the bench, Darcy stepped onto the raised dais and began a practice pattern.

The class officially began at seven and everyone was here. They kept looking over to Darcy as she slid into her class jacket. Wires were connected at the back which would link her to the computer scoring system.

Darcy ignored them as she chose her class sword and changed gloves.

"Miss Thompson," Mr. Henry, the instructor, called her over. "I want you to meet Darius Walters."

Darcy shook hands with the tall, powerful man.

"Darius is a..." Mr. Henry looked to the man, "What is it again?"

"A Templar." Darius informed him, "We are a group of men who practice the medieval fighting styles."

"I'm happy for you, what does that have to do with me?"

Darius spoke as Mr. Henry went off to speak with class, "Mr. Henry informs you are familiar with two handed sword work."

Darcy shrugged, "I suppose."

"Would you mind showing me?"

"The class..." Darcy caught what Mr. Henry was saying and frowned again, "Damn it."

"I take that as a yes?" Darius asked.

"Fine."

Darcy shed her fencing gear and chose a sword from the collection the wall. She still wore a glove but it was plain leather.

"I hope you enjoy the demonstration this evening," Mr. Henry said and stepped onto the dais. He motioned them to the starting line and waited a moment. "Allez!"

Darcy was prepared for the heavy hit of the board sword. Her body turned with momentum and the parry was successful.

Minutes later Darcy held Darius at sword's point, he nodded his surrender. Darcy stepped back and he stood up slowly. He looked down at his sword arm, there was blood. His gaze went back to Darcy.

"Very well fought Miss Thompson," Darius regarded her, "I haven't seen a style such as yours in a very long time. It was rumored to be used by the Saxon's during the conquest of England."

Darcy shrugged, "If you say so." She looked to Mr. Henry, "The class still has an hour and fifty minutes left. Pardon me if I do not take part." She nodded to him and placed the sword back in its holder.

Grabbing her bag she left the room. She hoped no one saw the fear in her eyes as she fled.

The halls of the school were quiet as Darcy pulled out her cell phone.

"Jones, come and get me."

She ended the call and stepped outside, dropping her bag absently. The evening was chill as New York rolled toward another winter. Leaning up against the stone wall, Darcy rubbed her face.

"This can't be happening," She muttered and sighed, "How can this be real?"

"Do you believe in Reincarnation, Miss Thompson?"  
She jumped and looked over to see Darius; he wore a leather coat and jeans with a T-shirt under the jacket. He also carried her coat.

"What did you say?"

Darius watched her with serious eyes, "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"You mean the migration of souls to a different body at death?"

He nodded, "Yes, something like that. There is also a theory that memories go with the soul." He looked up to the sky, "Most of us go through life without realizing it. Some," He looked back to her, "do not."

Darcy sighed, "You think that my fighting style is a memory from a past life?" She couldn't help the sarcastic tone in her voice.

"It's not something to be scared of." Darius said gently, "You can in fact have great power if you accept them."

"Power?" Darcy laughed gently, "Not my thing."

"I don't mean literally," Darius said, "I mean control. Your life will be richer then you can possibly imagine now."

Darcy watched him skeptically, this man really believed what he said. "So what are your memories?"

Darius shrugged, "They vary. Most are from Brittain in the early 600's. Most of them are from Europe."

"Why?"

He shrugged, "I don't know. Some people have gone all over the world. I've met people who can read Ancient Egyptian scrolls. The number of dead languages is astonishing really. It seems that each culture had their own dialect."

Darcy saw her car approaching, "Fascinating Mr....?"

"Walters, Darius Walters."

"Yes well, nice talking to you." She grabbed her bag and stepped up to the car. She had the door open when Jones stepped out. The chauffeur put her bag in the trunk.

She turned to Darius, "By the way, anyone can learn dead languages Mr. Walters, and it's called a Classics degree."

Darius called out to her in just such a language. Darcy stopped cold as she moved to enter the car. She stared at him, her green eyes dark with knowledge.

She got in and slammed the door against the sight of him. "Go." She ordered.

HOME

Darcy pulled on fresh clothes and rubbed her wet hair with a towel. Leaving it on the back of a chair, she went down stairs. The sounds of dinner conversation reached her as she pushed a door.

Her family looked up and, her father nodded to the chair nearest him. Darcy sat down, a servant appeared with her dinner plate.

"You really shouldn't wear jeans to the table, dear." Her mother scolded as Darcy sat down.

"So you keep telling me." Darcy retorted as she drank her water.

"So Darcy," Her mother said once the servant was gone, "Your father says you received good news."

Darcy stared at her father, he gave a slight shrug, "I was accepted to Julliard."

Her mother took a moment to process that and nodded. "Very good." She sipped her tea from a fine china cup. "Did you hear Becky and Lauren's news?" Darcy shook her head, "Mr. Schultz is sending them to London. Apparently, Giovanni has asked for them by name."

Darcy looked up at her mother's excited tone. It came as no surprise to her that her mother would be more interested in the twins then Darcy herself. It had always been expected of Darcy to make it to Julliard and than to Broadway.

But the twins were a novelty.

Darcy put aside her fork and sat back from the table. "Excuse me." She stood up quickly.

"Oh Darcy," Her mother called absently, "Dr. Rutherford called this afternoon. He wants to see you tomorrow at one."

Darcy left the dining room and ran up to her bedroom. Closing the door she crossed to the large sleigh bed and sank into the silk brocade blanket.

BRITTAIN: TIME OF THE SAXON INVASION

Screams and black smoke filled the bright afternoon. Mud was thick and deep in the devastated field. Men lay dying and crying in amongst the corpses of brothers.

The battle was long over but that didn't mean the fight was over.

Ursula moved carefully through the field of bodies. She clutched the sword in her left hand as she searched. All hope was fading as she found dead men. There were plenty of screams to guide her, but little to help.

She kept stopping at the bodies of her kin; they were mostly dead. She kept going, further and further into the horrible scene.

"My lady!" She paused at a distant call from the camp, "Your father wants you."

Ursula waved him off and kept going. She had to find him! The mud was getting worse and more treacherous, the further she went. Urs slid and fell several times, but always got up again.

"Ulrich!" She called his name and nothing came as a response.

"What do we have here?"

She spun at the sound of Englishman. Three soldiers stood a few feet back. They had been stalking her. Ursula brought up her sword. They laughed at her. The first one moved toward her.

The fight was brutal and she kept sliding in the mud. A few of the English blows landed but nothing serious. Ursula was strong and capable with a sword. The last Englishman fell dead and she sank to her knees to recover.

NEW YORK

Darcy woke up with a jolt as the dream faded away. She looked around; she was in her apartment, in New York. The space was dark because of the burgundy velvet curtains. There were no bodies, no smoke and no screaming. Darcy put her feet on the floor and grabbed her alarm clock. It was just after eleven in the morning.

Darcy recalled her mother saying Dr. Rutherford wanted to see her. She picked up her room phone and dialed Jones.

"I need you for the day." She said and he said he would be there in half an hour.

Darcy looked at her jeans and T-shirt. She decided to change the top. Pulling open her closet she found a DKNY shirt and pulled it on. The footwear was by Kenneth Cole and added two inches to her height.

Darcy shut the wooden doors and realized she had left her coat at the school. She remembered someone else too, but it was vague. The sudden ringing of her room phone cut the thought off.

"Yes?"

"Miss Thompson, there's a Mr. Darius Walters here, he has your coat." The house butler James informed her.

"Take him to the sitting room, I'll be down in a minute."

Darcy opened the door to the sitting room and Darius stood up. She remembered him now and indeed he had her coat. He also carried a motorcycle helmet in the same hand.

"Sorry to bother you," He said and never looked away from her, "I thought you might want this back." H held out her coat with his free hand. "Look about last night, I am sorry about what happened."

He stopped as Janice walked in. She eyed him coolly. "Darcy, Jones is here."

"Thanks," Darcy took her coat and left the room. Darius followed her quickly, "Its fine, I'm not really good with people sometimes."

"No I mean about what I said, as you got in the car."

Darcy stopped; her hand was on the front door handle. "You..." She shook of the memory, "I don't' remember anyway." Darcy stepped out and Jones was holding her door open.

"I think you do." Darius followed her down the steps, "Look, I know it's strange and weird, but believe me the dreams don't get better." Darcy stopped again, she stared at him from inches away. "The ones you're having now are just the start. More will come and they'll get worse."

Darcy nodded to Jones as she stepped in, her door closed and they pulled away. Darcy watched Darius Walters fade into the distance.

"Are you alright Miss?" Jones asked from the front, "You look pale."

"I'm fine, thank you Jones."

The traffic slowed them down and Darcy watched New York roll by. This city was modern and real; it was bustling and alive. So why did she feel so lost? So empty? Darcy shook herself but Darius' voice still echoed in her head.

_This is only the start and they're going to get worse._

She couldn't handle worse; she couldn't handle them right now. There had to be some explanation for this; something other then reincarnation. There was no way these dreams were past-life memories.

But what about her skills? She stared at her hands; fencing had been a natural calling, so had horseback riding and archery. She had loved the woods and forests of Germany when they used to visit. It had been coming come for her.

"Miss Thompson, it's your father on the phone." Jones held up the car phone.

Darcy reached for the extension and picked up, "Thank you."

Roger's voice flowed across the line, "Hi honey, on your way to see Dr. Rutherford?"

"Yes. What's up?"

"I need you to come by the museum when you're done."

Darcy sighed, "I would love to, but I have Jazz class at two-thirty."

Roger lowered his voice in a playful way, "I won't tell if you don't."

Darcy grinned, "I'll be there as soon as I am done. Where do I find you?"

"The Viking Exhibit."

"Sounds good." Darcy hung up as Jones parked in front of the building. "Wait for me, Jones, I won't be long."

She got out on her own and hurried in.

Dr. Charles Rutherford was a good man and better doctor. So when Darcy got the news she was stunned.

"I am sorry Darcy but it's a fact, you suffered a head trauma. It's a miracle you won't be permanently or seriously hurt."

"You just said I had a head injury, and it's not serious?" Darcy stared at him, "So why am I talking to you?"

Dr. Rutherford smiled gently, "The injury may result in migraines. There might also be slight vision impairment."

"Doc, come on, I fell at dance practice. It can't be that bad."

He folded his hands and sat back, "What do you want me to say, Darcy? At least you're still moving around. Most dancers, who are going to Julliard, would be pleased at the news."

Darcy frowned, he laughed, "My mother."

"She called to make an appointment for the twins. I hear they are going over seas."

Darcy nodded, "So I'm fine than?"

"Yes."  
Darcy stood up and left the office. She found Jones still waiting in the same place and slid into the back seat. "The Natural History Museum."

"Right away," Jones put aside his magazine and they left.

Darcy walked into the American Museum of Natural History and paused. She knew this place well but still liked to look around. Things were always changing and she liked taking her time.

She followed the signs to the Viking Exhibit and nodded to the museum security. They allowed her through the yellow tape. Darcy stopped again at the sight of a life-size model Viking ship. The air suddenly smelled of salt and water. She heard the thunder of waves against the wood; the howl of a strong wind. The ship tossed under her like a violent earthquake.

"Miss Thompson?"  
She opened her eyes and was staring at one of the guards. He was holding her. "What happened?"

"You were going to pass out. Should I call an ambulance?"

"No." Darcy stood on her own feet and waved him away, "Thanks."

Hurrying away from the ship, Darcy followed the blue arrows on the floor. They guided her deeper into the exhibit. The room she entered was flooded with blue light. Numerous displays portrayed what was left of the Viking culture.

Darcy stopped cold as her eyes fell on a shield behind a class wall. She pressed her palms to the glass and remembered the weight of it. The press of the leather strap against her arms.

"Hello again,"

She turned and frowned at the sight of Darius Walters, "Are you following me?"

"Not so lucky, I'm afraid. I'm working with the museum on the exhibit." He looked at the shield, "A beautiful piece. We found it buried with a Viking Princess. She apparently died defending her village while her father was away."

"I know." Darcy looked at the carvings on the shield. She recalled the man who had hammered them into the steel.

Darius was watching her, "Still don't believe me?"

Darcy looked up at him sharply, "Let's say for a moment that I do. What are we going to about it?"

"I can teach you some meditations. Help you learn to focus the memories." Darius gazed at the entire exhibit. There is so much to know."

Darcy looked around with him; she felt a tug deep within her, an echo for familiarity.

"Ah!"

Darcy jumped as her father walked into the room, "I was looking all over for you, Darius."

"I was talking to your daughter, Mr. Thompson, she's a wonderful girl, pardon me, a wonderful woman."

Roger grinned, "Well I just came to say that we are breaking for lunch. I have to take care of business, but we can finish later."

Darius nodded, "Sounds fine." Roger hugged Darcy briefly before leaving quickly, "Care for lunch?"

"Yes."

Darius took them to a near by place and they sat amongst the noon crowd. The waiter was fast and efficient. Darcy stared at her lunch and sipped her soda. She looked around and shook head. It was all so normal. Darcy stared at the faces and found her self confused.

"Tell me when the dreams started." He asked gently.

She focused on Darius, "Three weeks ago after I hit my head in dance class."

"Since then you've found yourself drawn to certain things. Better at others, like the fencing for example?"

"Yes. Like in the exhibit, I nearly collapsed by the ship."

Darius nodded, "I had a memory as well; it was very faint, I guess yours was not."

"So these dreams and such, these are happening because I'm reincarnated?"

Darius sat back in his chair, "The theory goes: Everyone on the planet has lived other lives. Hence the theory of Soul-Mates. Have you ever walked into a room and recognized someone; although they are a stranger to you now, you feel as though you know them?"

Darcy nodded, "Sure."

Darius tipped his head, "There you go."

"What about the ship and the shield, explain that."

"Some memories are so powerful that we relive them. As the memory rises our entire self recalls the time, the moment. That is also why so many people don't want to remember. Many people have violent memories because those are the most strongly imprinted on us. A few only remember their lovers; but those are very few indeed."

Darcy nibbled at her food, "So the skill with the sword, what is that?"

Darius took an amused expression, "Certain skills, when used repeatedly in different lives, stay with us. The ability to read or write an dead language, for example, shows that you many lives in that time or culture. Or the skill with a sword; it's all the same."

Darcy listened to what he said and thought about it. "What about places? Like cities around the world."

"Those are usually the strongest clues to our past memories." Darius explained. "Not many of have memories of America, because it is so young, comparatively speaking. But places like Asia and Europe, those are powerful."

Darcy nodded, "Any places for you?"

"Scotland, Wales, mostly the United Kingdom area."

Darcy looked up at him, "So what are you doing in New York?"

He laughed, "Occasionally the soul will reject going back. For me, I am drawn to Edinburgh, but I am also scared of it. Something awful happened to me while I lived there. I might take a few more lives before I can go and resolve the issue."

"Resolve it?"

Darius nodded, "The Soul is reincarnated with karma; some good, some bad. This results in us needing to finish things. People say that the skills we remember in this life are to help us resolve the main issue we carry with us."

Darcy set aside her plate and leaned back in the chair. "So my skills with a sword, my desire to go to Paris, it's all about resolving something?"  
Darius nodded, "There's a good chance."

Darcy looked at the crowds again, "How many of them do you suppose know this?"

Darius followed her gaze, "It's hard to say."

She looked at him; for some reason, in that instant, she had a flash flood of recognition. Darius turned to face and his expression said he'd felt it too.

"What...." She gaped at him.

"We must have known each other at one point." He smiled at her, "I wonder how."

Darcy felt it rise up in her and suddenly she knew. "We fought together against the Romans. We were Saxon kin."  
Darius laughed gently, "Well that explains the feelings I've been having."

"What are those?" She asked seriously.

"Like I used to be your brother," Darius stood and left money on the table, "Come on, let's walk."

Darcy was relaxed as she walked with Darius; they stayed near the museum, but distant enough to not see it.

"Darcy,"

She looked up at him, "Hmm?"

"How far back do you think you go?" He asked.

She shrugged, "I have no idea."

"Well your recall ability is amazing. Perhaps you used to be a psychic of some kind. We've found that people with previous occult knowledge, recall easier then those that don't."

Darcy smiled at him, "Perhaps I was Merlin."

Darius laughed with her. "Oh sure, and I was King Arthur of Camelot."

TWO MONTHS LATER

Darcy grabbed her school bag as the clock chimed seven thirty. Jones was waiting for her with a paper sack in one hand. He gave it to her as she climbed in.

"Thanks for breakfast, Jones." Darcy sat eating MacDonald's on her way to Julliard. "I am going to be working late again tonight."

"Of course, Miss Thompson."

She was dropped off and ran up the stairs to her first class of the day.

Nightfall was deep across the city as ten o'clock chimed in the school. Darcy didn't notice. She was busy working through a routine. Her body was tired but she made herself finish it again.

Darcy sat on the bench in the change rooms. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. In her hands she held a book. Darius had given it to her a few days ago. It was written in ancient Sanskrit. She wasn't having any success. Tossing the book into her bag, Darcy left the room.

She smiled at the sight of Darius on his bike. He took off his helmet as she made her way to him. His hair was thick and curly like brown waves of silk. His worn leather jacket was soft as she climbed onto the bike. Her hands went to his slender waist.

"Any luck with the book?"

"Nope, I've never seen it before." Darcy slid his helmet on and they took off.

Darius parked in front of her place and she slid off. He took her hand as she handed the helmet over. "Darcy," he took her hand gently, "Despite our...past; as siblings, could you ever bring yourself to date me?"

She watched him; his gray eyes were so full of emotion. "Darius," She sighed, "Dating is the last thing on my mind right now. I mean you've changed my life in good ways, but I'm too busy to be any good as a girlfriend."

He nodded, "I had to try."

She touched his check; it was a motion she had done a thousand times before. The words fell from her lips, "Be not afraid of the dark, trust in the strength within."

He stared up at her, suddenly he grabbed her, his mouth crushed against hers.

This was nothing they had shared before and a first for Darcy Thompson. The emotions that lit through her blood were wild and powerful. But underneath she felt an echo of emptiness. Darius stirred emotion in her, but that was it. There was no connection beyond it.

Darcy stepped back and they both knew it was over. She handed the book back and he stared at it.

"Keep the book. You never know." He slid his helmet on and Darcy watched him roar off.

She would never see him again.

Darcy hung up her coat and left her bag by the door.

"Darcy, a moment?" Her father called from the dinning room.

The table was covered in a mountain of paper work. She stared at her father and knew he was going to scold her. He must have seen the kiss.

"Darius is a nice young man." Roger never looked up from the report he was reading. "But he's not for you."

"Look Dad, I-"

Roger looked up than, "I know about the memories."

Darcy fell quiet for a full minute, "What?"

He sighed, removed his glasses and rubbed his face. "I knew you would one day discover the memories. I did at your age and so has your mother. But unlike her, I've accepted mine."

Darcy sank into a chair near her father, "Why didn't she?"

"Because all her memories are of being a poor peasant. She can't stand the idea that she wasn't always rich." Roger shook his head, "I don't understand it my self, but that's okay. The real question I have is, how are you doing?"

Darcy smiled, "Fine. I'm incorporating the memories into my life."

"What is the majority?"

"War, fighting, and death. One theme is constant, I am always a noble."

Roger nodded, "I figured that much." He grinned at her, "What do you think about Becky and Lauren?"

Darcy laughed, "I don't even want to try. I can't imagine them having a past life beyond yesterday."

Roger sighed as he smiled, "Now that we have that cleared up. None of this quiet, brooding, alright?"

She nodded and stood up, "By the way, what are your memories?"

He spread his hands to the papers, "Merchant and banker, always finances."

Darcy kissed the top of his head, "Good night, Dad."

"Hey," He called, "I wonder if I was once your advisor?"

Darcy looked back at him and laughed, "Anything is possible."

END OF CHAPTER SEVEN


	8. Paris

_**TIMELESS – CHAPTER EIGHT**_

Here's to the nights we felt alive  
Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry  
Here's to goodbye  
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon... -- Eve 6- Here's to The Night.

A NIGHT IN PARIS

PRESENT DAY PARIS

Evening sat over the city of Paris, France. Lights glowed as crowds of fun-seekers paraded down the ancient streets. Lost in the crowd were four people who were laughing it up.

"Then I said to him, why not ride backwards, that way you can keep your eye on them." Mac retold the tale with flourish, "He said to me: But who then will guide the horse?'

"So what happened?" Darcy asked as they walked.

"We ended up sharing the horse." Mac said and Darcy laughed.

Amanda pulled up short, "Here it is!"

She exclaimed and hauled her man into the club. Darcy was pulled in with them and so was her husband.

The music was multi-cultural and the décor was exotic. This was a place to dance and let loose. Amanda shed her coat revealing a very small backless red dress. She went straight for the dance floor, dragging Mac with her.

Darcy tugged at the new dress Amanda had talked her into. It had a halter top and very short skirt. Opaque hose went down her legs to brand new boots. Both Methos and Duncan were wearing jeans and a semi-causal shirt. Mac was in dark red and Methos was bright blue.  
The colors had been Amanda's idea, "We need a way to keep track of our men." She had insisted.

"We'll grab you a table." Darcy called as Mac threw her helpless smile.

Methos and Darcy sat a booth near the floor; they ordered a round of beers and watched the dancing.

"Mac can sure move." Darcy exclaimed with admiration.

Methos watched the Highlander, "I suppose."

Darcy shot her husband a look, "Think you can do better?"

Methos stood up, held out hand, "Yes, I do." Methos found a spot on the floor, "Try to keep up."

"I'm the Julliard graduate, _you_ try to keep up." Darcy said.

The two of them spun into a salsa as the music shifted to the fast beats required. Methos knew exactly how to move and was always in the right place. Darcy spun and twisted, jumped and twirled. The lights blended in with her vision and it was like being in a dream.

She was grounded by the solidness of Methos body against her. His hands slid along her torso, up to her arms, she would spin and he would catch her around the waist. His breath would tingle against her skin as he lifted her into the air.

Darcy stared into his eyes and saw passion there. The music was the sound of love and his hands let her know he felt it. Darcy grinned at him as she touched ground. Her hips and arms moved and twirled as though possessed.

The music gave way to something Caribbean and the floor was flooded anew. Darcy led off the floor and they sat in the booth. Mac stood as they did so.

"Very nicely done," He commended. "You'll have to share that with me sometime." Mac teased.

"I think not," Methos countered as he kissed his wife.

Darcy laughed, "I'd forgotten how much fun dancing was."  
The music changed again to a thoroughly country two step.

Amanda was on her feet instantly. "Mac, come on."

Darcy jumped in and the four of them two-stepped to the Dixie Chicks.

As they returned to their booth there was a menu waiting.

"I say we get the party platter," Amanda informed them, "Although, that does look good." She pointed and looked to Mac, "How about you?"

"I need another beer." He said and stood up. "Anyone else?"

"Might as well get a round," Methos said as he draped an arm around Darcy's shoulders.

"Fine." Mac shook his head and disappeared into the crowd.

The food was almost gone; a third round of beers was two-thirds finished, the music was still going. The last hour had been tango. Darcy had tried a couple dances but wasn't taking to it.

The music switched to something she recognized, "Oh finally, some real music." She stood up as Missy Elliot came across the speakers. The three Immortals sat listening, Amanda arched a fine brow.

"She calls this music?"

Mac shrugged as he grabbed the last chicken wing, "Kid's today."

"At least it's not Disco." Methos muttered as he tossed back the last of his beer.

"It's your turn to get beer," Mac said as he finished his.

Methos stood up and disappeared into the crowd.

Mac watched as the two women danced on the floor. Amanda was as good as Darcy in keeping up with the hip-hop beats. The two of them were having a great time.

Methos returned with four beers and settled. He caught Mac's expression. Following the Scot's gaze, he slapped him on the shoulder. Mac looked over.

"That's my wife, Mac." Methos grinned at the look on Mac's face. "I'm glad to see you and Amanda are back on."

"Yeah, for this week," Mac snatched a beer and took a long swig.

Darcy tumbled into her husbands arms as she and Amanda returned to the table. Amanda snuggled up to Mac.

"Are we spending the evening here?" Amanda asked she took a drink of Mac's beer.

"I don't see why not," Darcy said lightly, "Music is good, food is fine and the beer is cold."

"I concur," Methos clinked bottles with Darcy in agreement.

Three a.m. had long since passed as the quartet stumbled down the street. Darcy was being carried by Methos and Mac finally followed suit by scooping up Amanda.

"Can you make it home?" Amanda asked as she set her feet on the ground. She cuddled against Mac's chest.

"Or what, stay here?" Darcy shook her head, "I'd rather not listen to you two make out."

Amanda grinned, "We saw you two, during those salsa songs. That was pretty much the same thing."

Darcy grinned at her, "I know." The two women burst into laughter.

Methos grabbed his wife in a mock shoulder toss. Darcy squealed as she dangled over his shoulder. "See you guys later."

"You barbarian!" She cried in fake terror. "I'm being kidnapped by a barbarian."

"And you'll love it." Mac shouted to them as Methos walked down the street.

"Now," Amanda pulled Mac down to her mouth, "Where's my barbarian?"

Mac kissed her and swept her up, "Waiting below."

The following day Darcy woke up with Methos still beside her. She snuggled up to him and he rolled over. She settled on his chest and he held her.

"Last night was..." Darcy paused as Methos laughed gently, "I meant the dancing."

"Oh," He tried to sound serious, "I rather liked the end result myself."

"I'm not complaining; I just liked the whole thing."

Methos yawned as his telephone rang. He climbed out of bed and stumbled over discarded clothes.

He came back a moment later, "Mac is coming over."

"Why? What's happened?" Darcy sat up as Methos pulled on clothes.

"I have no idea, he's just coming."

Mac accepted the coffee and sipped at it for a few minutes. "I can't believe this. I mean I can, this _is_ Amanda we're talking about. But still, after last night, I thought...Well I thought she might stay."

Darcy pulled her hair back as she sank beside Methos, "She's gone?"

Mac nodded, "Left me a not saying she was sorry."

"It must have been important," Methos said gently.

Mac shook his head, "More important than my feelings for her?"

Darcy knew to stay out of it; instead she stood up and went to the kitchen, breakfast was a great diversion. She heard the murmur of the men as they spoke; but didn't try to listen. She settled at the table and peered at the morning paper. There was nothing interesting.

Darcy was half way through the paper when she caught sight of an ad. Tearing it loose she went to the men.

"Read this,"

Mac looked it over and frowned, "Amanda wouldn't," He paused, "She might."

"Might what," Methos took the ad and frowned, "Amanda would."

Darcy perched on the couch arm, "Would she really try to steal the Hope Diamond?"

"Yes." They said in unison.

"She won't be able to sell it." Darcy reasoned.

"Think of the ransom she could have." Mac stood up quickly, "I've had it with her. I am tired of this dance of hers." He grabbed his coat, "Thanks for listening Methos. Have a good day Darcy."

Darcy exhaled once Mac was gone. "He's really angry."

Methos looked up at her, "Mac loves Amanda, at least as much as he can."

Looking at the clipping in her hand, Darcy sighed. "Well at least we know why she left him."

Methos stood and pulled her against him, "At least we have each other."


	9. Untold Secrets: Part One

_**TIMELESS – CHAPTER NINE**_

We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly." --From _As You Like It_ (II, iv, 53-56)

UNTOLD SECRETS: PART ONE

"You're what?" Darcy asked as she watched Methos pack.

"I have to leave for a few days."

"Why?" She asked and caught his hands, he looked up her. She searched his face and knew he was hiding something from her. "Tell me."

"I can't." He pulled his hands free and finished packing, "I'll call you."

Darcy flinched the door closing. She sat alone in bed, listening to the whir of the heater. He was gone, just like that. She bit her lip as confusion swelled in her mind. Methos had never kept anything from her before. It didn't sit well with her.

Darcy hurried in her walk; she was freezing and miserable. Finally she broke into a jog and that helped only slightly. The sharp click of her boats reminded her of the events three days ago.

Amanda had up and vanished after a night with Mac. The Highlander had been a wreck ever since. Now Methos was up and leaving with no explanation.

Darcy paused at the sight of Mac's boat. She carefully boarded and called out as she went below.

"Mac?" She peeked around the corner. The living room was a disaster area and smelled just as bad.

Darcy picked her way into the space. She caught sight of Mac's large form in bed. "Mac?"

She approached the bed and stopped. In her year with Methos she'd never looked at another man. But the back that faced her now as worth looking at. The shoulders were broader then they looked under clothes. His waist was just as narrow and he was just as tanned all over.

Darcy shook herself and backed away from the bed. She busied her self with cleaning up.

Mac awoke to the smell of strong fresh coffee. "Amanda?" He rolled over and sat up, he was startled to see Darcy. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured I'd come check on you." She crossed the clean living room with a cup of coffee.

Mac sat up as he sipped it, "This is good. Tastes different."

"I washed your coffee pot." Darcy stood at the foot of the bed.

Mac inhaled as he yawned, "Something smells orangey."

"That would be the cleaning solution I used on your living room." Darcy made a concentrated effort not to look at Mac as he got up from the bed.

"Wow, you did all this?" Mac finished his coffee and scratched his chest. "Why?"

"The smell was getting to me." Darcy backed away slightly, "Speaking of smell,"

Mac frowned and sniffed under his arms, "What? I smell?"

Darcy smiled at his innocent sounding voice, "You could do with a shower and a shave."

Mac ran his hands over his face, "Oh."

Darcy fried up eggs and sausage as Mac showered and dressed. He came out of the bathroom and Darcy stopped in her tracks. He'd left his hair loose and even wet it curled. He was in a sleeveless shirt which left his arms and most of his shoulders bare. He was stunning. A sweater slid over top and she blinked, tearing her eyes off him.

"How do I look?" He asked.

Darcy swallowed, "Better."

He grinned at her, "Is that breakfast?"

Darcy looked at the plate in her hands. "Yeah."

Mac took the plate, "Let's eat outside."

"But it's freezing." Darcy countered as Mac went above deck.

Mac was seated on the roof of his living room. He patted a spot beside him. "Come sit down. This is great by the way." He gave her a thumbs up sign. "Methos is one lucky man."

"You wouldn't know why he would suddenly leave do you?" Darcy sat next to Mac and huddled in her sweater.

"Not really," Mac looked across the water, "But Methos doesn't tell me everything. Why do you ask?"

"He left this morning. No explanation, nothing. Just gone." Darcy sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Mac, would he leave me for..."

"For someone else?" Mac shook his head, "Not likely."

Darcy shivered as a wind breathed through her shirt. "I got a call from my Dad the other day."

"How is old Roger?" Mac finished up and set the plate aside.

"Fine. He's moving to New Orleans next month."

Mac arched a brow, "Did he say why?"

Darcy shook her head and shivered again. "Can we please go back inside?"

Mac watched Darcy clean up and put everything away. She moved with grace and strength; with a confidence and power that was all feminine. Mac loved watching her. She was peaceful and happy; she was also smart. He could tell by way she organized his kitchen.

As she turned her back to him, Mac's gaze went down. He shook his head at the thought that went through his mind.

_Don't even think it,_ He warned himself, _She's married to Methos. Don't even think it._

But he was a man and he did think it. _There's no harm if she doesn't know, _he told himself and left it at that.

Darcy turned and was surprised at the intense Mac was giving her. She found her coat quickly and shrugged it on.

Mac blinked and stood up as she prepared to leave. "Let me walk you," He grabbed his coat before she could argue.

Darcy was slightly uncomfortable walking next to Duncan. He was large and power next to her, not to mention imposing and tall. She felt dwarfed beside him.

Methos was thin and lithe, so walking beside him was easy. But not Mac.

Darcy spun to face Mac as they reached the staircase up to her place. "Thanks for walking me."

Mac looked down at her; she really did have stunning eyes. "You're welcome."

Darcy exhaled sharply and went up the stairs.

Mac called out to her, "Can you come over tomorrow?"

Darcy paused, turning to face him. "Why?"

Mac shrugged, "Why not?"

Darcy wanted to tell him why not; she wanted to scream at him, but she nodded instead. He gave a regal bow and left. Darcy stared at him until he disappeared. She sat on the stairs and stared at her hands. The gold of her rings flashed as the diamonds sparkled.

"Oh god," She whispered as tears filled her eyes, "Oh no."

END OF CHAPTER NINE


	10. Untold Secrets: Part Two

**_TIMELESS – CHAPTER TEN_**

We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly." --From _As You Like It_ (II, iv, 53-56)

UNTOLD SECRETS: PART TWO

Darcy stared at the boat like it was a sleeping beast. She didn't want to set foot near it, much less on it. But as she stood there, she knew it was useless. She walked toward the boat.

"I can always say no," She whispered to herself. "I can always say no." Repeating it did little to ease the tight ball in her stomach.

"Hey!" Mac said as she appeared below deck. "I was just making breakfast, do you want any?"

"No, thank you." Darcy stayed away from Mac as he sat on the couch. "I don't think I'll be staying long."

"Is Methos back already?" Mac asked.

"No. I just..." Darcy stopped herself. She couldn't bring herself to say it; there was no way she could say it. "I just have plans."

Mac lifted his big brown eyes to hers. Darcy's breath caught, "Plans?" He made the word sound sexual. Darcy closed eyes and shook her head, "So you don't have any plans?" His voice was perky again, "Have you ever played chess?"

Darcy opened her eyes, "What?"

"Have you ever played chess?"

"Not recently,"

She found herself sitting across from him. Mac broke out the chess board and she was learning about the game.

Evening swelled over the gray of the sky as Mac walked Darcy home. They didn't talk about anything. Once they reached her step, Darcy turned to him. She stared into his face and again was speechless.

"Thanks," Was all she could manage.

Mac grabbed her hand as she turned to leave, "Darcy,"

Her breath caught at his touch; his hand was so warm, or maybe she was just that cold. She turned to face him.

"Thank you for today." His tone was sincere. "Don't worry about Methos. He'll be back soon."

She nodded and his hand touched her cheek, she flinched at the softness of it. Tears sprang to her eyes and she jerked back from him. Darcy fled up the stairs and slammed the door behind her.

She fell to the bed in great sobs of fear as her mind filled with images. Mac without his shirt, Mac touching her hand; underneath this there was an dark voice whispering.

_No one will ever know. Everyone does it now a days. Besides, he left you._

"He hasn't left me!" Darcy screamed at the deepening darkness. "He wouldn't do that to me."

THE NEXT DAY

Darcy balanced the grocery bags as she kicked the door closed. After putting the dishes away she absently checked the telephone for missed calls. Her heart stopped at the sound of Methos' voice.

"Darcy? I guess you're out. I should be home at around six tonight. I love you, see you then."

Darcy sank to the floor with relief. He was coming back and nothing had happened. Methos was coming back.

The clock chimed seven and he still hadn't shown up. Darcy paced the floor as the clock ticked off the minutes. Seven-thirty, eight, nine-thirty; Darcy grabbed her jacket and left the place.

She went for a quick walk; not to Mac's just out. She had to do something other then pace and wait. Darcy returned home shortly and ran up the stairs. She unlocked the door and stopped cold.

Her eyes squinted at the shadows. She took one step, then another, her boots made clear sounds on the hard surface. Her eyes began seeing clearly. She stopped and bit her lip.

Two figures were in the bed and she knew the male voice. The upper body that sat up was chiseled and also familiar. Darcy stared into shocked eyes and was choking on her tears.

"Darcy!" Methos moved but she was faster.

Darcy ran from the sound of his voice and never looked back. Her legs pushed harder and ran faster then ever before.

"Darcy?"   
She lifted her head and saw Mac standing before her. Her body threw itself against him and he held her.  
"What is it?"

The sobs made talking impossible but she managed in a quick rush. "Methos....liar...not alone."

She fell into greater fits of crying.

Mac held her to him, not fully believing her, "Methos is cheating on you?" He couldn't help the disbelief in his voice. "Are you sure?"

Darcy had regained some of her composure and nodded, "I know what I saw. I saw him and another person, in bed and they weren't talking."

Mac sat on the couch and brought Darcy with him. "I'm sure you thought you saw..."

"Damn it MacLeod!" Darcy snapped and pulled away from him, "I know what I saw!"

Mac held up his hands, "Alright. Okay, so Methos is having an affair." The words sounded so strange to Mac that he nearly laughed.

Darcy stood up and began to pace, "Why would he do this to me?" She was shaking her head. Her hands hugged her arms, "I loved him the best I could. I never kept anything from him."

Mac was still stuck on the image of Methos cheating. "You said he left suddenly. Perhaps it has something to do with this?"

"I know why he left!" Darcy snarled, "I know why he refused to tell me."

Mac watched her and saw pure rage; pure, untainted anger. He actually worried for Methos for a moment. Darcy looked ready to kill him, for good.

"Now hang on," Mac said, he stood up and grabbed her. "This isn't making sense. Methos just wouldn't do this."

"Oh yeah sure, just like he wouldn't' slaughter a village, right? Just like he wouldn't kill innocent people." Darcy shook Mac off and stalked across the room. "He's not a boy scout."

Mac knew that reasoning with her was a moot point. She was too angry. "Let me talk to him."   
Darcy spun on him, "Talk to him!" She threw up her hands, "A lot of damn good it'll do. He'll probably tell you some story or whatever. He's a cheat!"

THE FOLLOWING DAY

Methos paced outside of Mac's boat, he knew the Highlander would show eventually. He just wasn't used to waiting for things anymore. Methos turned sharply at the sense of an Immortal.

Mac stopped at the sight of Methos as the man turned to face him. Beside him, Mac felt Darcy tense up. He grabbed her arm as she took a step forward.

"MacLeod," Methos looked to his wife and saw the rage and pain, "Darcy."

Mac nodded, "Methos, care to talk?"

"Yes, actually, I would."

Darcy made an angry sound and lunged. Both men were caught off guard and Methos held her back from clawing his eyes out. Her fists beat his face and chest. She was making strange noises.

Mac hauled her off and was surprised at the effort it took. "Darcy! Stop! Let us talk!" Mac turned his back to Methos and set her firmly on the ground. Both arms were locked around her and she still fought him.

"Please," He whispered to her, "Let me talk to him."

Darcy tore herself loose and ran away.

Once inside the boat, they settled on the couch with beers. Mac wasn't sure were to start, Methos did.

"I am sure Darcy has told you what she saw?"

"Yep. I still don't believe it."

Methos put his beer aside, "Mac, I love her, I really do. But..."

"Methos, you don't cheat on the girl you love, especially not when she's your wife."

Methos nodded, "I know, just hear me out. I got a call at four in the morning from Kleo. I had to go and help her with a problem."  
Mac had heard of Kleo a few years back, "You mean the girl with the tattoos? The one who sold you the apartment?

"Yes, that one." Methos entwined his fingers, "Mac, she asked for a ride to Paris. I didn't see any reason to leave her strained."

"Let me guess, she asked for a drink and then it just all happened?"

Methos stared at him, "I can't explain it."

"You had better figure out how. I saw her Methos, Darcy was ready to kill you."

Methos touched his face, it had healed completely, "I got that."

"No, that display was nothing." Mac shook his head. A sudden thought occurred to him, "Did you leave Kleo at your place?"

"Yes, why?"

Mac stood up, "I have a bad feeling."

Darcy was deaf to the woman's pleas for mercy. Nor did she pay attention to the tears on her skin. The only thing she could see or hear was Methos as he made love to her.

She spun on the girl and hit her. The anger and rage surged outward and Dary fell to the floor.

"Why?!" She screamed and shook the woman, "Why?!"

Mac ran up the stairs with Methos a step behind. The door was open and he found Darcy shaking the girl. He grabbed her; the savagery she hit him with, was a shock. Methos went to the girl and Darcy fought harder.

"YOU!" She got loose and flew at Methos. He fell to the floor with Darcy pounding on him, "HOW COULD YOU?!"

Methos flipped them over and pinned Darcy's arms. She was crying now.

Mac knelt beside the woman; her face was bloody and she was hysterical. Gently he removed the tape and motioned for silence.

"Tell me what happened," he asked her, "Did someone put you up to this?"

The girl was nodding, "Yes, a woman, with red hair. She said I had to make it look like he was cheating on her. I had to make her angry."

Mac looked over to Methos, his cuts were healing over. "Did she tell you her name?"

"Cassandra." The girl started to sob, "I swear nothing happened, it just had to look like it. He didn't even want to; but the woman said she'd know if I didn't try. I had to. I am sorry."

Mac helped the girl to her feet and called a cab. "Now listen, Cassandra will know if you talk to anyone. So don't."

"But..."

Mac put a finger to her lips, "Not a soul."

She nodded and looked down to Methos, "I am really sorry Adam, she said I had to. I couldn't stop myself."

He nodded as he continued to hold Darcy down, "Good bye Kleo."

Mac sat at Darcy's head; she had exhausted herself with hysterics and was now sleeping. Methos kept moving to touch her only to draw back. He looked awful. Mac felt sorry for him.

"She'll never believe me." He said finally.

"She might."   
Methos shook his head, "I saw the look in her eyes, Mac. Darcy isn't going to forgive me."

Mac followed the gaze of his friend. "Methos, don't..." And watched in disbelief as Methos took off the ring and pressed it into the Highlander's palm.

"Just say...Just say I left."

Mac grabbed the man's arm, "Methos this is what Cassandra wants. She wants you to give up." The desperation in Mac's tone wasn't enough to convey his feelings.

"I'm tired Mac." Methos stood up and walked out the door.


	11. Lost In Time

**_TIMELESS – CHAPTER ELEVEN_**

_**LOST IN TIME**_

Methos stood on the bridge watching the ice under him. The freezing winter breeze echoed the chill in his heart. His eyes kept going to the naked skin of his left ring finger. He missed the ring. He missed Darcy. Methos shook himself and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

With the cold weather very few people were out doors. Methos shivered as the presence of an Immortal washed over him. He looked up, expecting Mac, he frowned at the sight of another man.

The man was sitting inside the café; he stared at Methos and nodded to the empty chair. Methos pulled in a breath; the air froze all the way down, it did little good.

"I heard you got married," The man remarked absently, "But I don't see a ring."

Methos hunched around the tiny cup of coffee, "What do you want Ryan?"

"I want to enjoy a cup of coffee and conversation." Ryan stared at the hurting soul of the world's oldest man. "Why don't you start?"

Methos drew in a breath as the word's spilled out. "The very first moment I laid eyes on her; I felt my soul awaken. The day was hot..."

ELSEWHERE IN PARIS

Mac opened the door to Metho's apartment; he paused the frigid air that touched him, something was wrong. Mac considered drawing his sword but stopped.

When he had left the other day, the apartment had been a wreck. Now it stood clean. The floor was gleaming without a single trace of blood on it. The bed was stripped bare leaving only the mattress. In the kitchen as well; everything had been cleared out, not a single dish or food item could be found. It was gone.

Mac stood in the empty apartment and caught sight of something. Crossing to the door he closed it slightly and found a note.

_Not even time...good bye – Darcy Pierson._

Mac sighed as he felt a strange sense of loss. He hadn't realized how much he liked Darcy. Mac shook his head as he though of their two days alone. Yes, okay, he admitted it, his thoughts had wandered to the sexual. But he also knew Darcy loved Methos. If she didn't love him she wouldn't have become so wild; so angry.

He looked around the apartment then down at the note. "Darcy..."

ANOTHER PART OF THE WORLD

Darcy Pierson signed the register and went up to her room. The small space held a single bed, a beat up dresser and a Bunsen burner atop a mini fridge. There was a washroom hardly encouraging; but the space was clean. Most importantly, it was free of memories. The sheets weren't full of Methos and the furniture didn't have his ghost on them. She was alone; again. Her gaze drifted to the gauzy curtains over the windows. She stood and stared at the balcony.

She stepped outside and looked at the small town below. The evening was deep with stars twinkling miles away. The narrow streets were warm and presently empty. There was the occasional sound of music and laughter not far from her.

Darcy's gaze went to the distant pyramids; the silver light of the moon lit over the peaks. Flooding down all sides of the ancient structures only to pool and wash over the sand.

Darcy sat up from bed and yawned. The memory faded like the dream that had brought it on.

She sat on the edge of the bed; staring at her feet, and crying. It came on suddenly and she let the tears fall on her legs. Wrapping her arms in a hug, Darcy huddled in on herself.

"No hope."

Returning to the warmth of her bed; Darcy dreamt of Methos.

PARIS

"You found this at my place?" Methos held the note in his hand as he read it for the seventh time. "But why? What does it mean?"  
Mac shrugged, "I thought you might know. You're the one with history, remember?"

Methos frowned at the lack of help his years were offering. "I don't know, Mac." Methos sat on the couch and shook his head. "I don't know anything."

Mac sat next to the man and wanted to shake him. Instead, Mac grabbed the note from his hand.

"Do Cassandra and Darcy have any history? Have they met before now?"

"I don't know." Methos squeezed his eyes shut as if warding off the questions.

Mac was startled to see tears. They fell slowly as if unsure how their course. Mac stood up then sat down, he stood quickly and paced to the fireplace.

"I'm calling Roger." Mac announced and crossed to the phone. Methos was suddenly there, fighting him for the phone. "Methos!"

"No!" Methos pulled the phone out of Mac's hand. "No! You can't call him!"

"Look," Mac pointed a finger at the man, "You should be the one wanting to find her, not me. But instead, I am the one doing the work." Mac grabbed the phone, "Roger might know where to find her. You said yourself they shared a lot of memories."

"I said they _might_ have. Roger seems to know her from another life." Methos made a grab for the phone. Mac evaded it. "You can't call him."

"Why not?" Mac poked Methos in the chest, "You don't seem too anxious to have her back."

Methos paused as he looked at Mac, "You however are very motivated."

Mac was quiet for a moment, "Methos, I would give my life to have a moment of what you and Darcy share. If I could have a woman look at me the way Darcy looks at you, I count myself as fortunate."  
Methos watched his friend and suddenly realized something, "You love her."

Mac stared at the phone in his hand, he said nothing.

Methos kept staring at Mac, "Why? You have to know it's hopeless."

Mac looked up to Methos, "For me yes, but not for you."

The former Horseman shook himself and left the barge. Mac's words had hit a sore point with him. It was a hurt he had buried deep within himself.

EUROPE

The afternoon market was bustling and Darcy was enjoying the press of bodies. It was taking longer to find an exit then she thought. This being an open air market should have made it easy. But it wasn't the crowds were pressing in from all sides.

Darcy finally managed to free herself from the flood but was farther from home then she liked.

Balancing the weight of her bags, Darcy threaded her way along the narrow streets. She eventually found her way back to her small place. Climbing the wooden stairs to her floor, Darcy dug out her keys.

Placing both bags on the floor, Darcy struggled with the lock.

"Let me help."   
Darcy turned as a fist smashed into her face. She fell backwards; she was grabbed from the floor and flung against her door. The surface shook but didn't break. The hands clawed at her face, burning pain spread across her skin.

"You don't remember me do you?" The voice was clearly a woman, but Darcy couldn't see her. "But I remember you."

Darcy felt pain rush over her as something cold plunged into her chest. Screams echoed in her head as finally she saw the woman.

Bright red hair, green eyes...yes she knew her now.

Cassandra stood over Darcy as the mortal collapsed to the ground. "You will remember soon."


End file.
